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The Daughters of the Late Colonel

phine’s list of things to be done. Go through father’s things and settle about them. But that was a very different matter from saying after breakfast:

“Well, are you ready, Con?”

“Yes, Jug—when you are.”

“Then I think we’d better get it over.”

It was dark in the hall. It had been a rule for years never to disturb father in the morning, whatever happened. And now they were going to open the door without knocking even. . . . Constantia’s eyes were enormous at the idea; Josephine felt weak in the knees.

“You—you go first,” she gasped, pushing Constantia.

But Constantia said, as she always had said on those occasions, “No, Jug, that’s not fair. You’re eldest.”

Josephine was just going to say—what at other times she wouldn’t have owned to for the world—what she kept for her very last weapon, “But you’re tallest,” when they noticed that the kitchen door was open, and there stood Kate. . . .

“Very stiff,” said Josephine, grasping the door-handle and doing her best to turn it. As if anything ever deceived Kate!

It couldn’t be helped. That girl was . . . Then the door was shut behind them, but—but they weren’t in father’s room at all. They might have suddenly walked through the

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