no takers. The frames were dusty and brown with age, and they held pictures of long-dead people, faded and yellowed with time and mold.

"Do I hear five dollars, five dollars, five dollars for the lot?" said the man.

Granny beckoned to Mum to take her over to the pictures so over they went, creeping along an inch at a time. The auctioneer politely waited. The crowd of bidders and onlookers politely waited.

"I remember..." said granny, "Dear, will you pick that one up for me?" Mum blew a cloud of dust off the frame and held it up. By now the auctioneer had resigned himself to a long delay, out of respect, while granny looked at the item. The crowd waited, slightly impatient.

The picture was a blackened image of a baby in a young woman's arms.

"Ah, dear little Johnny," said granny, "You still have such sweet blue eyes."

"You know who that is?" said Mum.

"Of course I do," said granny, "That's John Smith when he was nine month's old. I told you I was his nanny."

"And who's the woman in the picture?"

"Me of course," said granny, "That's before I had my hair cut. See that? I used to have it plaited, and tied up in a bun. It used to reach right down to my waist at one time."

Mum turned the picture over, to see if there was anything written on the back. As she did so, a small, brown envelope dropped from where it was pinched between the frame and the back of the canvas.

"Last will and testament of John W. Smith," said a man, reading it as he picked it up. He was the same man who had spoken to the people at the cemetery. He opened the envelope and studied it for a moment, then he held it up.

"It has just come to our attention," he said, "That the late Mr. Smith has left his entire estate to a Miss Elise Hubertson."

"That's me!" said granny chuckling, "I'm a lucky old thing aren't I?"

"Amazing!" said Jodey.

"Awesome!" said Nip.