Then he sat himself down on a chair in the window, and began going through what he held, carefully and methodically.
Suddenly through the open door there came a cry of "Miss Rosamund, I want you!" Rosamund got up reluctantly.

"Nanna's a regular tyrant!" "Leave all this to me," he said.

"I'll find the prescription if it's here." She went off, and almost at once he came to a folded bit of paper.
Perhaps this was the prescription?
He opened it, and this is what he read:-- March 12, 1919.

This is the happiest day of my life.

One of my godmothers has died and left me L50.