hem like a grave. They passed it with reverent
steps, and spoke in whispers as they stole on tiptoe by the closed
door.

It occurred, however, to Primrose that now was an opportunity when she
might come into the room and put some of her mother's treasures
straight. She unlocked the door and entered; a chill, cold feeling
struck on her. Had she been Jasmine she would have turned and fled,
but being Primrose, she instantly did what her clear common sense told
her was the sensible course.

"We have made up our minds to go on as usual," she said to herself;
"and letting in the sunlight and the daylight is not forgetting our
dear mother."

Then she pulled up the blinds, and threw the window-sashes wide open.

A breath of soft warm air from the garden instantly filled the dreary
chamber, and Primrose, sitting down by an old-fashioned little
cabinet, slipped a key into the lock of the centre drawer, and opened
it.

Mrs. Mainwaring had been by no means a tidy or careful person--she
hated locks, and seemed to have a regular aversion to neatly-kept
drawers or wardrobes, but this one little cabinet, which had belonged
to the girls' father, was a remarkable exception to the general rule.

Mrs. Mainwaring never, even to Primrose, parted with the key of this
cabinet. Whenever the girls were present it was locked--even Daisy
could not coax mother to show her the contents of any of those
tempting little drawers--"only mementoes, darling--only mementoes,"
the lady would say, but the girls knew that mother herself often in
the dead of night looked into the locked drawers, and they generally
noticed that the next day she was weaker and sadder than usual.

On the top of the cabinet a miniature painting of Captain Mainwaring
was always to be found, and the girls used to love to keep a vase of
the choicest flowers close to father's picture.

When Mrs. Mainwaring died, Jasmine cried nearly the whole of one night
at the thought of the little old-fashioned cabinet--for now she felt
quite sure that no one would ever dare to open it, "and I don't like
to think of the mementoes being never seen again," she sobbed: "It
seems cruel to them."

Then Primrose promised to undertake this dreaded task, and here was
her opportunity.

Primrose was not at all a nervous girl, and with the soft summer air
filling the chamber, and driving out all the ghosts of solitude and
gloom, she commenced her task. She determined to look through the
contents