"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.