"Is it mine own house? Why is it?" he asked.
"Because dear Dad is dead, and he has left it to you."
"But I don't want Dad to be deaded. It makes Nurse cry."
"It makes me cry too," said Freda, gulping down a lump in her throat; "but God has done it, so there's nothing to say. And this is very important. It has to do with God. He wishes us to do it, and we want a bedroom, Daffy and me."
"What must I do?" asked Bertie meekly.
"Make him write it on paper," said Daffy, "like one of our story-books. Don't you remember a man left a little girl—Helen her name was—all his money and a big house, and he wrote it on a bit of paper?"
"I'll write it," said Freda quickly. "We'll do it at once, in case we might be stopped."
So a piece of paper was found, and a black stump of pencil, and Freda wrote in her best round copy-book writing:
"I give to Freda and Daffy one of my bedrooms in this house for somebody that God wants to stay here."
And then they told Bertie he must sign his name. He had great trouble in doing this, but they stood over him till it was done, and then Freda folded up the paper and put it into a small box of hers which locked.