poor Ralph!" she murmured, over and over again, as she sat by,
the kitchen window, while kind-hearted Mrs. Corcoran moved about doing the
simple household duties. "Oh, Mrs. Corcoran, it cannot be possible, can
it?"

"There, there, try to think of something else, that's a good dear!"
returned the neighbor, sympathetically. "It won't do any good to brood over
the matter."

"But Ralph was my only child! And his father gone, too!" and Mrs. Nelson
heaved a deep sigh, while the tears streamed down her cheeks anew.

The widow's sorrow was deep, and up to now she had not allowed herself to
think of aught else. She was alone in the world, so she thought, and did
not care how the future shaped itself.

Presently there was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Corcoran opened it to
admit Squire Paget. The head man of the village wore a look of hypocritical
sympathy upon his sharp features.

"I was just going over the bridge to Eastport," he explained, "and thought
I would drop in for a neighborly chat."

Even in this simple statement he could not put a grain of truth. He had
made a special trip to the cottage, and had come solely for his own selfish
ends.

Mrs. Corcoran bid him welcome, and offered him a chair.

"I trust you do not let your sorrow rest too deeply upon you, widow," he
went on, to Mrs. Nelson. "We all have our trials in this world," and he
gave a grunt that was meant for a deep sigh.

"How can I help it, squire?" she replied. "Ralph was all the world to me."

"So was my late wife, widow, and yet I had to give her up;" and again he
gave a grunt-like sigh.

This statement did not affect Mrs. Nelson greatly. She knew that it was a
fact that the squire and his late wife had quarreled continually, and that
many had said he had not cared at all when death had relieved him of her
companionship.

"I was wondering what you intended to do," went on the squire, after an
awkward pause. "Do you intend to stay here?"

"I do not know yet, squire."

"I should think you would want to change your surroundings. Does not
everything in this cottage remind you of your late husband and late son?"

"Indeed it does!" cried Mrs. Nelson. "Sometimes I cannot bear it!"

"If I were you I would sell out and go elsewhere," suggested the squire,
coming around to the subject that was on his mind. "Perhaps a little trip
somewhere would do you a world of good."

"It would do her good," put in simple-minded Mrs. Corcoran, who believed
the