"Who is there?"

"It is Jane."

"What Jane--who?"

"She who folded the hands of your father for the last time. Open the
door. There can be no No to me."

The door opened.

"Jenny!"

"Ben--let all titles pass now--I have come to give you a surprise."

The old woman sank into a chair.

"I have come to visit you for the last time," she said, "and to number
with you our mercies of life. Let me rest before I talk. You are in
pain."

"Jenny, my pains have gone. I had sat down in agony in this new room; my
head ached as well as my body. I am happy now that you have come."

She moved her chair to his, and he took her hand again, saying:

"My sister's hand--your hand, Jenny, as when we were children. They are
gone, all gone."

He looked in her face.

"Jenny, your hair is gray now, and mine is white. I have been reading
over again this letter from Washington."

"Read it to me while I rest, then we will talk of old times."

He read the letter.

"Here are the resolutions of the Assembly of Pennsylvania passed on my
return."

"Read them to me, brother, for I must rest longer before we talk of old
times."

He read the resolutions.

"Jenny, let me uncover this. It is not vanity that makes me wish to do
it now, but on account of what I wish to say."

He uncovered the portrait of the French king. The last light of the sun
fell into the room and upon the frame, causing the four hundred diamonds
to gleam.

"That was presented to me by the court of France."

"I never saw anything so splendid, brother. But what is the other
picture under the cover?"

He drew away the screen.

"It is my portrait, Jenny."

"But, brother, what are those words written under it?"

Franklin read, "_Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis._"

"Brother, what does that mean?"

"'He snatched the thunderbolts from heaven, and the scepter from the
tyrants.'"

"Who, brother?"

* * * * *

"Jenny, let us talk of these things no longer. Do you remember Uncle
Ben?"

"He has never died. He lives in you. You have lived out his life. You
have lived, Ben, and I have loved. Brother, you have done well. He who
does his best does well."

"Jenny, can you repeat what Uncle Ben said under the tree on the
showery day when the birds sang, nearly seventy years ago?"

"Let us repeat it together, brother. You have made that lesson your
life."

"'More than wealth, more than fame, or any other thing, is