We crossed the flowering gardens to the white house standing so peaceful in the afternoon sunlight. Martt led the way. The twins were twenty-one years old now. Alike physically, and in temperament. Both smaller than average height; slim and delicate of mold; blue-eyed, and fair of hair. They were always laughing; carefree--the spirit of irresponsible youth. But not today. I regarded Martt, trudging ahead of me--debonair, jaunty of figure in his tight black silk trousers and loose white shirt, bare-headed, his crisp, curly hair tousled by the wind. But there was a slump to his shoulders, a heaviness to his tread. And little Frannie behind him: girlishly beautiful, with her tossing golden curls, her familiar house costume of gray blouse and widely flaring knee-length trousers. But there was upon her a preternatural solemnity; a maturity of aspect indefinable. At the doorway Martt turned and fixed me with his somber, blue-eyed gaze. And spoke with the same queer hush to his voice. "Father is upstairs, Frank. He is--dying. He wants very much to live until you arrive." Upon the pillows in the darkened room lay Dr. Gryce's head with its shaggy, snow-white hair, the mound of the sheet betraying his pitifully wasted body. Martt said softly, very gently, "Frank is here, Father. You see he came in time--plenty of time." But the head, with face to the wall, did not move; no stirring marked the fragile body lying there. Martt gave a cry; with Frannie he rushed to the bedside. It was all too evident. In a moment Martt stood up, leaned silently against the bedpost, a hand before his eyes as though dazed. And Frannie knelt at the bed and sobbed. We expect death all our lives, yet the instinct of life within us never ceases to feel a shock, and a revulsion. For a long time these children of Dr. Gryce did not move or speak. Then Frannie leaped to her feet. Her face was tear-stained; but her sobs were suddenly checked, and her eyes were blazing. "Martt! His last wish--the very last thing he said--was that we go out ourselves and find Brett. He said it--he said Brett might need us--his dying wish. And I'm going, and so are you. We've got to, Martt! And we want Frank with us. Oh, Frank, you'll go with us, won't you? Out there--to join Brett?" III The burial was passed. We had not spoken of our enterprise, but it had never left my thoughts. This boy and girl so newly come to maturity--but I was twenty-nine. Upon me would fall the main responsibility. We sat at last in Dr. Gryce's study--the three of us alone--to discuss our task. With the first poignancy of their shock and sorrow already dulled by time, upon the faces of Martt and Frannie was stamped grimly their simple purpose. "But, Martt," I said, "Brett's vehicle was very intricate. It traveled in Space--but in Time as well. And grew gigantic in size. Your father's genius built it. But we have no such genius to build another----"