"Come, both of you," the doctor said unexpectedly. He could hardly have explained why he extended his invitation to Felix. The words sprang from a momentary impulse; and Felix followed without hesitation. Keith was sitting up in his little bed, supported by pillows. Beside him stood Theodosia; haggard, wretched beyond description. After one glance, as Lettice entered, her eyes were averted: while the boy extended eager hands, and gasped, "Dear old Lettice! Come!" She bent over him, and he held her with his thin arms, until they dropped through weakness. The breathing was sorely oppressed. He seemed striving to say something, and unable to bring it out. Theodosia drew nearer; but with one hand, he tried to push her away—a hasty childish motion. "No, no, Keith!" the doctor said in a gentle voice. "I can't! Lettice! Not Mamsie! It was she—did it!" The boy could with difficulty speak, and he looked towards Dr. Bryant, panting. "I want—want—to tell you! . . . Mamsie did it! . . . I saw her! . . . Lettice knows! . . . Ask Lettice!" "What does he mean?" asked Dr. Bryant, in a low voice. Lettice shook her head. How could she reply? "Lettice knows!" repeated the boy brokenly. "Hold me, Lettice! Don't go! . . . She put the bank-note . . . her own self . . . into Lettice's box! . . . I saw her . . . Mamsie knows quite well . . . And Lettice knows!" Theodosia's face grew stony; and Dr. Bryant's changed to a grey whiteness. "Who put the bank-note into Lettice's box, Keith?" "Mamsie! Her own self! I saw her! . . . I can't think—how—she could!" An oppressive silence followed, broken only by the boy's gasps. Lettice was the first to speak. "Keith, darling, don't think of all that now. Try to forget about the money. You have not to do with it, you know. Think of the stories I used to tell you, up in the playroom on Sunday afternoon. About JESUS, dying on the Cross, and how He loved the children always." "Yes, I know! Will He take me—right away—up there?" "I am sure He will. He loves you so; and He died for you, Keith. Ask Him now to forgive you all that you have done wrong; and to take care of you." "I can't speak—it hurts! You ask?" There was an instant's shy reluctance, but at such a moment she could not think of self. Others simply stood around, waiting. Lettice looked at none of them. She knew that Theodosia, Dr. Bryant, Felix, Susanna, were present; yet as she knelt, with bowed head, clasping the boy's hand, she had a sense of being alone with Keith before the Heavenly Throne. In soft tones she uttered the words of her own old evening prayer, learnt long ago from Cecilia, and taught later to Keith, only changing the pronouns to suit the needs of the present occasion, and bringing in Keith's name. He joined brokenly in the familiar sentences: and then a fit of choking came on. Theodosia interfered to give help: her own face ghastly. When the attack passed off, it left the boy unconscious.