"I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right.

I felt I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and I don't want any ill feeling over my tomb." Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker, read the following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the spelling: MY LAST WILL AND TESTIMENT I, Amy Curtis March, being in my sane mind, go give and bequeethe all my earthly property--viz.

to wit:--namely To my father, my best pictures, sketches, maps, and works of art, including frames.

Also my $100, to do what he likes with.
To my mother, all my clothes, except the blue apron with pockets--also my likeness, and my medal, with much love.
To my dear sister Margaret, I give my turkquoise ring (if I get it), also my green box with the doves on it, also my piece of real lace for her neck, and my sketch of her as a memorial of her 'little girl'.
To Jo I leave my breastpin, the one mended with sealing wax, also my bronze inkstand--she lost the cover--and my most precious plaster rabbit, because I am sorry I burned up her story.
To Beth (if she lives after me) I give my dolls and the little bureau, my fan, my linen collars and my new slippers if she can wear them being thin when she gets well.

And I herewith also leave her my regret that I ever made fun of old Joanna.
To my friend and neighbor Theodore Laurence I bequeethe my paper mashay portfolio, my clay model of a horse though he did say it hadn't any neck.