“Poor Rachel Ward,” said Aunt Olivia softly.  “Here is her point lace handkerchief.  She made it herself.  It is like a spider’s web.  Here are the letters Will Montague wrote her.  And here,” she added, taking up a crimson velvet case with a tarnished gilt clasp, “are their photographs—­his and hers.”

We looked eagerly at the daguerreotypes in the old case.

“Why, Rachel Ward wasn’t a bit pretty!” exclaimed the Story Girl in poignant disappointment.

No, Rachel Ward was not pretty, that had to be admitted.  The picture showed a fresh young face, with strongly marked, irregular features, large black eyes, and black curls hanging around the shoulders in old-time style.

“Rachel wasn’t pretty,” said Uncle Alec, “but she had a lovely colour, and a beautiful smile.  She looks far too sober in that picture.”

“She has a beautiful neck and bust,” said Aunt Olivia critically.

“Anyhow, Will Montague was really handsome,” said the Story Girl.

“A handsome rogue,” growled Uncle Alec.  “I never liked him.  I was only a little chap of ten but I saw through him.  Rachel Ward was far too good for him.”

We would dearly have liked to get a peep into the letters, too.  But Aunt Olivia would not allow that.  They must be burned unread, she declared.  She took the wedding dress and veil, the picture case, and the letters away with her.  The rest of the things were put back into the chest, pending their ultimate distribution.  Aunt Janet gave each of us boys a handkerchief.  The Story Girl got the blue candlestick, and Felicity and Cecily each got a pink and gold vase.  Even Sara Ray was made happy by the gift of a little china plate, with a loudly coloured picture of Moses and Aaron before Pharaoh in the middle of it.  Moses wore a scarlet cloak, while Aaron disported himself in bright blue.  Pharaoh was arrayed in yellow.  The plate had a scalloped border with a wreath of green leaves around it.

“I shall never use it to eat off,” said Sara rapturously.  “I’ll put it up on the parlour mantelpiece.”

“I don’t see much use in having a plate just for ornament,” said Felicity.

“It’s nice to have something interesting to look at,” retorted Sara, who felt that the soul must have food as well as the body.

“I’m going to get a candle for my candlestick, and use it every night to go to bed with,” said the Story Girl.  “And I’ll never light it without thinking of poor Rachel Ward.  But I DO wish she had been pretty.”

“Well,” said Felicity, with a glance at the clock, “it’s all over, and it has been very interesting.  But that clock has got to be put back to the right time some time through the day.  I don’t want bedtime coming a whole half-hour before it ought to.”

In the afternoon, when Aunt Janet was over at Uncle Roger’s, seeing him and Aunt Olivia off to town, the clock was righted.  The Story Girl and Peter came over to stay all night with us, and we made taffy in the kitchen, which the grown-ups kindly gave over to us for that purpose.