She never in my memory took up any work after dark. Unless she was called abroad by some festivity or meeting, the evening was our play time. She invariably dressed for dinner, which was followed by talk, whist, music, and reading aloud. She rarely used the precious daylight for reading English novels, so at night she was ready to listen to some “rattling good story” recommended by one of the grandchildren. She delighted in Stevenson, Crawford, Cable, Barrie, Stanley Weyman, Conan Doyle, Meredith, Tolstoi and Sienkiewicz. How she loved the friends of bookland, the friends who never hurt or bore! The new ones were welcome, but she was faithful to the old and liked nothing better than to reread those masterpieces of her youth, the novels of Scott, Dickens and Thackeray. We read Pickwick every year or two; she never wearied of the greatest English novelist’s greatest masterpiece. A good ghost story made her flesh creep; she was often kept awake by the troubles of the “people in the book,” who were so real to her that, when they were having a very bad time of it, she would spread her hands before her face and cry out: “Stop! Stop! I cannot endure it!” Money troubles of hero or heroine especially afflicted her; this was odd, for she bore the loss of the greater part of her own fortune with courage and equanimity. Though she knew the value of money, and practised the most touching little economies so that she might have more to give away, she cared very little about money and was always too busy with more important matters to think much of it. The stories of arctic adventure, Jack London’s especially, “gave her the shivers;” she ached with the cold and hunger of his dogs and heroes. The younger people among the listeners often envied her enthusiasm. Her imagination was so keen, her power of making believe the story was real so tantalizing, infectious too, that it carried us through many a book that would have been dull without it. One of the last books she enjoyed was Dr. Morton Prince’s Dissociation of a Personality. She was deeply interested in this last word on psychology and every day at luncheon gave us an account of Sally’s last prank.