ll the
papers and directions--'in case,' as poor Sawyer had said of himself--so
my Jack said it."

Grandmother sighed; Sylvia looked still more reproachfully at Molly;
Molly pretended to be threading her needle.

"And I got it all settled as her son had wished. He had arranged it so
that she could not give away the money during her life. Not long after,
she went to America to her other son, and I believe she is still living.
He got on very well, and is now a rich man. I had letters from them a few
years ago--nice letters. I think it brought out the best of them--Philip
Sawyer's death I mean. Still--oh no--they did not care for him, alive or
dead, as such a man deserved."

"What a shame it seems!" said Molly. "When _I_ have children," she went
on serenely, "I shall love them all alike--whether they're ugly or
pretty, if _anything_ perhaps the ugliest most, to make up to them,
you see."

"I thought you were never going to marry," said Ralph. "For you're never
going to England, and you'll never marry a Frenchman."

"Englishmen might come here," replied Molly. "And when you and Sylvia go
to England, you might take some of my photographs to show."

This was too much. Ralph laughed so that he rolled on the rug, and Sylvia
nearly fell off her chair. Even grandmother joined in the merriment, and
aunty came over from her corner to ask what it was all about.

"I have finished my story," she said. "I am so glad."

"And when, oh, when will you read it?" cried the children.

"On the evening of the twenty-second of December. I fixed that while I
was writing it, for that was the day it happened on," said aunty. "That
will be next Monday, and this is Friday. Not so very long to wait. And
after all it's a very short story--not nearly so long as grandmother's."

"Never mind, we'll make it longer by talking about it," said Molly.
"That's how I did at home when I had a very small piece of cake for tea.
I took one bite of cake to three or four of bread and butter. It made it
seem much more."

"I can perfectly believe that _you_ will be ready to provide the
necessary amount of 'bread and butter' to eke out my story," said aunty
gravely.

And Molly stared at her in such comical bewilderment as to what she
meant, that she set them all off laughing again.

Monday evening came. Aunty took her place at the table in front of the
lamp, and having satisfied herself that Molly's wants in the shape of
needles and thread, thimble, etc.,