ry right, dear. She is his son's widow. She is acting, no doubt, as
she thinks her husband would wish."

"But he didn't want to go."

"She probably felt he was too old to live alone, without relatives.
Indeed, I know that she would have taken him long ago, if she had been
living in this country herself. As soon as she came home she has
attended to her--her duty, as she sees it. As I suppose, anybody would
see it, who was indifferent whether he went or stayed. I hope, though,
that she'll bring him back to Burnside in the spring."

"Do you know her, mother?"

"Not well. When we were both younger I used to see her sometimes. She
was never very fond of Burnside, however. It was too quiet for her. She
is a wealthy woman, who likes to do a great deal of good. She is at the
head of many charitable associations, and she has always had wonderful
executive ability."

"Does that mean being what Israel called 'masterful'?"

"About the same thing."

"Will she be good to our dear Adam?"

"Certainly. She will see that he has every comfort possible. He will,
doubtless, have a servant especially appointed to wait upon and care for
him, and he will be made to share in all the enjoyments of the house.
She believes that it is the duty of all to live actively in the world
and do good aggressively, so to speak. But Adam is so old and feeble, he
has passed his days in such simplicity, I can feel what a change for him
it will be. Still, if he were to fall seriously ill, he would be better
off at his daughter-in-law's than here. Ah, yes. I suppose it is for the
best--for him. For us--well, it will be hard to think of Burnside
without his gracious presence. He was my parents' oldest, closest
friend, as he has been mine."

Mrs. Kaye rose, folded up her mending, and left the room. "I must tell
Cuthbert," she remarked, as if to herself, and her face was very sad.

When Amy found her brother and told him the news his comment was:--

"That's a bad business for us, girlie."

"Of course. Don't you suppose I feel it?"

"As long as Adam Burn was near, mother would never have been allowed to
really suffer for anything. I mean that he would have managed to keep an
eye upon her and have helped us out, till we could help ourselves. Do
you know where that letter is he gave you? Have you read it? I should
think this might be that 'right time' of which he spoke."

"The letter? In my other dress pocket. I'll get it."

But when she had searched