"I'm going to have a rare old rout out this morning," Jenny announced when she woke up to the sight of an apparently infinitely wet day, a drench in a gray monotone of sky from dawn to nightfall. About eleven o'clock the rout out began and gradually the accumulated minor rubbish of a quarter of a century was stacked in various heaps all over the house. "What about mother's things?" May inquired. "I'm going to put them all away in a box. I'm going through them this afternoon," said Jenny. "I've promised to go out and see some friends of mine this afternoon," said May. "So I'll leave them to you because they aren't tiring." "All right, dear." After dinner when her sister had gone out and Jenny, except for the servant, was alone in the old house, she began to sort her mother's relics. One after another they were put away in a big trunk still plentifully plastered with railway labels of Clacton G.E.R. and Liverpool Street, varied occasionally by records of Great Yarmouth. Steadily the contents of the box neared the top with ordered layers of silk dresses and mantles. Hidden carefully in their folds were old prayer books and thimbles, ostrich plumes and lace. Jenny debated for a moment whether to bury an old wax doll with colorless face and fragile baby-robes of lawn--a valuable old doll, the plaything in childhood of the wife of Frederick Horner, the chemist. "I suppose by rights Alfie or Edie ought to have that," Jenny thought. "But it's too old for kids to knock about. If they remember about it, they can have it." So the old doll was relegated to a lavendered tomb. "After all," thought Jenny, "we wasn't even allowed to play with it. Only just hold it gently for a Sunday treat." Next a pile of old housekeeping books figured all over in her mother's neat thin handwriting were tied round with a bit of blue ribbon and put away. Then came the problem of certain pieces of china which Mrs. Raeburn when alive had cherished. Now that she was dead Jenny felt they should be put away with other treasures. These ornaments were vital with the pride of possession in which her mother had enshrined them and should not be liable to the humiliation of careless treatment.