One entry ran as follows: "Have been approached this season by each Relation present in regard to disposal of my estate. Will fix surprise for all Relations before leaving to join my wife. Shall leave money to every one, though perhaps not as much as each expects. Jeremiah advises me to leave something to each. Laws are such, I believe, that no one remembered can claim more. Desire to be just, but strongly incline to dear Nephew James." On the last page of all was a significant paragraph. "Dreamed of seeing my Rebecca once more, who told me we should be together again April 7th. Shall make all arrangements for leaving on that day, and prepare Surprises spoken of. Shall be very quiet in my grave with no Relations at hand, but should like to hear and see effect of Surprise. Jeremiah will attend." The last lines were written on April sixth. "To-morrow I shall join my loved Rebecca and leave all Relations here to fight by themselves. Do not fear Death, but shudder at Relations. Relations keep life from being pleasant. Did not know my Rebecca was possessed of such numbers nor of such kinds, but forgive her all. Shall see her to-morrow." Then, on the line below, in a hand that did not falter, was written: "The End." Dorothy wiped her eyes on a corner of Elaine's apron, for Uncle Ebeneezer had been found dead in his bed on the morning of April seventh. "Elaine," she said, "what would you do?" "Do?" repeated Elaine. "I'd strike one blow for poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! I'd order every single one of them out of the house to-morrow!" "To-night!" cried Dorothy, fired with high resolve. "I'll do it this very night! Poor old Uncle Ebeneezer! Our sufferings have been nothing, compared to his." "Are you going to tell Mr. Carr?" asked Elaine, wonderingly. "Tell him nothing," rejoined Dorothy, with spirit. "He's got some old fogy notions about your house being a sacred spot where everybody in creation can impose on you if they want to, just because it is your house. I suppose he got it by being related to poor old uncle." "Do I have to go, too?" queried Elaine, rubbing her soft cheek against Dorothy's. "Not much," answered Mrs. Carr, with a sisterly embrace. "You'll stay, and Dick 'll stay, and that old tombstone in the kitchen will stay, and so will Claudius Tiberius, but the rest--MOVE!" Consequently, Elaine looked forward to the dinner-hour with mixed anticipations. Mr. Perkins, Uncle Israel, Mrs. Dodd, and Mrs. Holmes each found a note under their plates when they sat down. Uncle Israel's face relaxed into an expression of childlike joy when he found the envelope addressed to him. "Valentine, I reckon," he said, "or mebbe it's sunthin' from Santa Claus." "Queer acting for Santa Claus," snorted Mrs. Holmes, who had swiftly torn open her note. "Here we are, all ordered away from what's been our home for years, by some upstart relations who never saw poor, dear uncle. Are you going to keep boarders?" she asked, insolently, turning to Dorothy.