Then—I must try and write it quickly without crying, for it blots the ink so—father took a funeral on a bitter cold day, and it was blowing a blizzard, and they kept him waiting, and when he came home he was all in a shiver. Martha, our cook, who knows about everything, made him go to bed, and sent for a doctor. And two days afterwards Dr. Lane told me father had double pneumonia, and he was afraid he wouldn't get better. It seemed as if the end of the world had come then. Martha had a woman in from the village to help her nurse him. And Lynette and I cried all day long, while Puff couldn't and wouldn't understand how ill father was, and made as much noise as he always does. We sent for the boys to come home. And when Denys was here, I seemed to get more time to creep in and out of father's room, for he kept Puff quiet. Father couldn't speak, and he seemed to be always sleeping, but one evening I was sitting with him. It was Sunday, and the others had gone to church. Another clergyman had come to take the service. Suddenly father looked up quite brightly. "Grisel," he said in a husky voice, "good little Grisel!" "Oh, father!" I said, holding up one of his hands to my cheek. "You are going to get better." He shook his head, and then after a few minutes he said in a husky voice: "Grisel—remember—tell the boys—I charge you—Hold fast! Hold fast!—" He stopped, and seemed to fall asleep before he had finished what he was saying. Those were his last words. He died that night. I want to write this quickly. It seemed all like a dreadful dream, but a dream which we could not wake up from. The next thing that happened was father's lawyer arriving. Such a nice man! His name is Mr. Adamson. He told us that he and father used to be school-boys together, and father had been writing a lot of letters to him lately about us. He saw to everything, and after the funeral, still stayed on with us, arranging everything. We shall have to leave this dear old Rectory, of course—and all the furniture is to be sold. But the most surprising thing of all is a letter that has arrived to-day. Aylwin says it is a bomb-shell, but Mr. Adamson is not a bit surprised; in fact, it is all through him that it has come. You see, while Mr. Adamson has been looking through father's papers, we have talked together a lot, and Denys and I feel we're the eldest in a way that we've never felt before. Of course, Denys is always good at making plans, and Aylwin likes to argue against him just for the sake of argument. At first I felt nobody mattered, and nothing mattered, except that father had left us. But boys never think like that, and so Denys called a council to-day, directly after breakfast, and we met in our schoolroom. Our dear old schoolroom! I love it so! Father and I had been talking about a governess coming to take Aunt Caroline's place, but time slipped on, and we have never yet heard of any one who seems exactly right. Now all that is over! Well, Denys began: