"No," answered Sally, "but Miss Camilla told me. And _I_ know how she hates to part with them. Even _I_ will feel a little sorry when they're gone. I've washed them and dusted them so often and Miss Camilla has told me so much about them. I've even learned how to know them by the strange little marks on the back of them. And I can tell English Spode from Old Worcester, and French Faience from Vincennes Sèvres,--and a lot beside. And what's more, I've really come to admire and appreciate them. I never supposed I would. "Miss Camilla will miss them a lot, for she's been so happy with them since they were restored to her. But she says they're as useless in her life now as a museum of mummies, and she needs the money for other things." "I suppose she will restore the main part of her house and live in it and be very happy and comfortable," remarked Doris. "That's just where you are entirely mistaken," answered Sally, with unexpected animation. "Don't you know what she is going to do with it?" "Why, no!" said Doris in surprise, "I hadn't heard." "Well, she only told me today," replied Sally, "but it nearly bowled me over. She's going to put the whole thing into Liberty Bonds, and go on living precisely as she has before. She says she has gotten along that way for nearly fifty years and she guesses she can go on to the end. She says that if her father and brother could sacrifice their safety and their money and their very lives, gladly, as they did when their country was in need, she guesses she oughtn't to do very much less. If she were younger, she'd go to France right now, and give her life in some capacity, to help out in this horrible struggle. But as she can't do that, she is willing and delighted to make every other sacrifice within her power. And she's taken out the bonds in my name and Genevieve's, because she says she'll never live to see them mature, and we're the only chick or child she cares enough about to leave them to. She wanted to leave some to you, too, but your father told her, no. He has already taken out several in your name." Doris was quite overcome by this flood of unexpected information and by the wonderful attitude and generosity of Miss Camilla. "I never dreamed of such a thing!" she murmured. "She insisted on giving me the little Sèvres vase, when I bade her good-bye today. I hardly liked to take it, but she said I must, and that it could form the nucleus of a collection of my own, some day when I was older and times were less strenuous. I hardly realized what she meant then, but I do now, after what you've told me."