"God bless you, Teddy." "And God bless you, Harry, and mind you must be a good boy." "I will, I will," said the little fellow. And so with Joe and Nelly, who kissed and bade their brother good-night, and gave him God's blessing. "Would you mind, mother," whispered Teddy, "if they said their prayers now before going to bed?" In obedience to their mother's directions, the children knelt at the bedside and said their prayers aloud, Timothy, the sorrowing parents, and Teddy himself mutely joining in the simple supplication. Mr. and Mrs. Meadows's heads were bowed upon their breasts, but Timothy's eyes were fixed upon Teddy's face, and a great tremor ran through him as he noticed the dying lad's lips form the words, "Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep." The solemnity of the occasion sank deep into Timothy's heart. "He says that prayer," he thought, "for the last time, for the last time. Poor Teddy!" The prayers being over, the children were taken quietly from the room. Teddy's eyes followed their figures until the door closed upon them. Then his lids dropped, and no one spoke until he himself broke the silence. His voice was weaker now, and he often paused, as if to gather strength for the words he wished to utter. "Harry will be just like you, father, when he is a man. He is proud of it when I have told him. 'I want to be like father,' he has said many times." "I hope he will be a better man," said the father. "He couldn't very well be that, eh, mother? And Nelly will be like you, mother, but not so pretty, I think." Mrs. Meadows sighed. She was a buxom woman; but her best-looking days were gone. She knew that quite well, and had always wondered at Teddy's praises of her prettiness. "And now, father, about my will. You won't mind, will you?" "No, my boy, we will do everything you wish." "Thank you, father. But first, though, about what I've got a right to do." "You've the right to do anything, Teddy. Only say what it is." "Are my books mine, father?" asked Teddy. "Yes, my boy." "I know exactly how many I've got--forty-seven, some of them nicely bound. I should like Timothy to have five." "He shall have them, Teddy, the best there are." "He won't pick out the best, father; he knows they are only as a remembrance, and I want him to have something else. Father, you must have my desk." "I will keep it and cherish it, my boy." "There is something in it for mother--a little ivory brooch I bought for her birthday before I was taken ill. Your birthday comes exactly four weeks to-day, mother. I sha'n't be here; but think I give it to you _then_." Mrs. Meadows could not speak. She lowered her face to the wasted hand she held in hers and kissed it, and held her head down. "My other books I should like divided between Harry, Joe, and Nelly. That will be fourteen each. You will know which to choose for them. Father, are my clothes mine?" "Surely they are, my dear lad." "To do whatever I like with?"