'Parcel!'
I brought the little packet to his bed-side. 'Do you wish anything to be done with this, Mr Farrar?'
He looked at it a moment, and then turned his eyes upon his child. 'Forgive—be good to her.'
'To whom, dear papa?' murmured Lilian.
'Sister.'
'Auntie? Dear papa, do not you know that I love her?' she sobbed out.
'Haddon of Haddon—send it.'
'Send this packet to the person to whom it is addressed, Mr Farrar?' I asked, beginning to find a clue to the mystery, as I solemnly added: 'I will.' So far, I had interpreted his meaning; but I presently saw that was not sufficient. The eyes wandering from Lilian to the packet, and from the packet to me, told that there was still something to be done before his mind would be set at rest. I looked at the two or three lines in his own hand-writing on the packet, and after a moment's hesitation, said: 'This is addressed to your daughter, Marian; and I think you wish Lilian to promise to be good to her sister, Mr Farrar?' I saw I had hit upon his meaning once more.
'Yes; good to her.'
'Sister!' ejaculated Lilian. 'Have I a sister, dear papa—living?'