All his mind was fixed upon finding some way to conquer our depression and cheer us up; and at last, when he had but three days to live, he fell upon the right idea and was jubilant over it--a boys-and-girls' frolic and dance in the woods, up there where we first met Satan, and this was to occur on the 14th.

It was ghastly, for that was his funeral day.

We couldn't venture to protest; it would only have brought a "Why ?" which we could not answer.

He wanted us to help him invite his guests, and we did it--one can refuse nothing to a dying friend.

But it was dreadful, for really we were inviting them to his funeral.
It was an awful eleven days; and yet, with a lifetime stretching back between to-day and then, they are still a grateful memory to me, and beautiful.