Sunday February 15th

Marj. thought a good rest this morning would do her good so she stayed in bed till noon and I stayed in the house and read and herded the kids, just doing what chores I had to. I did the rest this after noon but we put in a very quiet day. The Lampkin's came over after tea to-night. Frank came over about eleven a.m. to tell us that poor little Lila has left us, she died about two o'clock this morning, consious I think up to the last but not suffering. It is nearly four years now since Aunty Maude went, Lila was then except for Tim the baby of our family, and so vivacious, active and aparantly strong, that little any of us thought, that she would be the first to join her mother. It seems hard to think that she, so young, so pretty and so very clever should be the first of her generation to experience the great adventure and to enter the shadowy boundaries of the mysterious unknown, and the sorrow for us who stand on this side and watch her bravely embark on that awful journey is piercing in its sadness and yet our pangs of grief are gently blended with a piercing sweetness which only grief can know, as we imagine the joy on that other side when, her journey ended, mother and daughter once again are in each other's arms.