"It's out of the question," said Aunt Janet seriously. When Aunt Janet said seriously that anything was out of the question it meant that she was thinking about it, and would probably end up by doing it. If a thing really was out of the question she merely laughed and refused to discuss it at all.  
The particular matter in or out of the question that opening day of August was a project which Uncle Edward had recently . Uncle Edward's youngest daughter was to be married; and Uncle Edward had written over, urging Uncle Alec, Aunt Janet and Aunt Olivia to go down to Halifax for the wedding and spend a week there.
 
Uncle Alec and Aunt Olivia were eager to go; but Aunt Janet at first declared it was impossible.
 
"How could we go away and leave the place to the mercy of all those young ones?" she demanded. "We'd come home and find them all sick, and the house burned down."
 
"Not a bit of fear of it," Uncle Roger. "Felicity is as good a as you are; and I shall be here to look after them all, and keep them from burning the house down. You've been Edward for years to visit him, and you'll never have a better chance. The haying is over and harvest isn't on, and Alec needs a change. He isn't looking well at all."
 
I think it was Uncle Roger's last argument which convinced Aunt Janet. In the end she to go. Uncle Roger's house was to be closed, and he and Peter and the Story Girl were to take up their with us.
 
We were all delighted. Felicity, in especial, seemed to be in seventh heaven. To be left in sole charge of a big house, with three meals a day to plan and prepare, with and cows and dairy and garden to superintend, furnished Felicity's conception of Paradise. Of course, we were all to help; but Felicity was to "run things," and she gloried in it.
 
The Story Girl was pleased, too.
 
"Felicity is going to give me cooking lessons," she to me, as we walked in the . "Isn't that fine? It will be easier when there are no grown-ups around to make me nervous, and laugh if I make mistakes."
 
Uncle Alec and aunts left on Monday morning. Poor Aunt Janet was full of forebodings, and gave us so many charges and warnings that we did not try to remember any of them; Uncle Alec merely told us to be good and mind what Uncle Roger said. Aunt Olivia laughed at us out of her pansy-blue eyes, and told us she knew exactly what we felt like and hoped we'd have a gorgeous time.
 
"Mind they go to bed at a decent hour," Aunt Janet called back to Uncle Roger as she drove out of the gate. "And if anything dreadful happens telegraph us."
 
Then they were really gone and we were all left "to keep house."
 
Uncle Roger and Peter went away to their work. Felicity at once set the preparations for dinner a-going, and to each of us his portion of service. The Story Girl was to prepare the potatoes; Felix and Dan were to pick and shell the peas; Cecily was to attend the fire; I was to peel the . Felicity made our mouths water by announcing that she was going to make a roly-poly jam pudding for dinner.
 
I peeled my turnips on the back porch, put them in their pot, and set them on the stove. Then I was at liberty to watch the others, who had longer jobs. The kitchen was a scene of happy activity. The Story Girl peeled her potatoes, somewhat slowly and awkwardly—for she was not at household tasks; Dan and Felix shelled peas and Pat by attaching pods to his ears and tail; Felicity, flushed and serious, measured and stirred .
 
"I am sitting on a tragedy," said the Story Girl suddenly.
 
Felix and I stared. We were not quite sure what a "tragedy" was, but we did not think it was an old blue wooden chest, such as the Story Girl was sitting on, if eyesight counted for anything.
 
The old chest filled up the corner between the table and the wall. Neither Felix nor I had ever thought about it particularly. It was very large and heavy, and Felicity generally said hard things of it when she swept the kitchen.
 
"This old blue chest holds a tragedy," explained the Story Girl.
"I know a story about it."
"Cousin Rachel 's wedding things are all in that old chest," said Felicity.
 
Who was Cousin Rachel Ward? And why were her wedding things shut up in an old blue chest in Uncle Alec's kitchen? We demanded the tale instantly. The Story Girl told it to us as she peeled her potatoes. Perhaps the potatoes suffered—Felicity declared the eyes were not properly done at all—but the story did not.
 
"It is a sad story," said the Story Girl, "and it happened fifty years ago, when Grandfather and Grandmother King were quite young. Grandmother's cousin Rachel Ward came to spend a winter with them. She belonged to Montreal and she was an too, just like the Family Ghost. I have never heard what she looked like, but she MUST have been beautiful, of course."
 
"Mother says she was awful and romantic," interjected
Felicity.
"Well, anyway, she met Will Montague that winter. He was handsome—everybody says so"—
 
"And an awful flirt," said Felicity.
 
"Felicity, I WISH you wou............