I looked at my sister.

Tears of woe were stealing down her face.

Soon the reading became very slow and stopped.

After a pause, 'There was something you were to say to him,' my sister reminded her.

'Luck,' muttered a voice as from the dead, 'luck.' And then the old smile came running to her face like a lamp-lighter, and she said to me, 'I am ower far gone to read, but I'm thinking I am in it again!' My father put her Testament in her hands, and it fell open--as it always does--at the Fourteenth of John.