. Her gray hair was smooth under her lace nightcap. Her hands were
folded, the nails glistening in the dusky room. Death had come
peacefully, as to her brother. What had taken her there to meet it was
the last mystery of her strange old soul.

III

Again a funeral in the old house, again a crowd of mourners. This time
there was less ostentation of grief, for no one was left worth
impressing. The lakeside people gathered, as before, at the upper end of
the parlor and gossiped freely. "Miss Williams ought to have put the
blond wig on her," said Mrs. Holt. "I am sure that is what Marian would
have done for herself. Poor Marian! She was a good soul, after all, and
really gave liberally to charity. I wonder if she has left Miss Williams
anything?"

"Of course. She will come in for a good slice. Who is better entitled to
a legacy?"

Pertinent question! They exchanged amused glances. Words were
superfluous, but Mrs. Holt continued:

"I think we are pretty sure of our shanties this time; Marian was really
fond of us, and had neither kith nor kin; but I, for one, am going to
make sure of some memento of the famous Webster estate." And she
deliberately opened a cabinet, lifted down a small antique teapot, and
slipped it into her bag.

The others laughed noiselessly. "That is like your humor," said Mrs.
Meeker. Then all bent their heads reverently. The ceremony had begun.

Two days later Miss Williams wandered restlessly up and down the hall
waiting for the evening newspaper. She made no attempt to deceive
herself this time. She thought tenderly of the dead, but she was frankly
eager to learn just what position in the world her old friend's legacy
would give her. Two or three times she had been on the point of going to
a hotel; but deeply as she hated the place, the grip of the years was
too strong. She felt that she could not go until the law compelled her.

"I cannot get the capital for ten months," she thought, "but I can get
the income, or borrow; and I can live in the city, or perhaps--But I
must not think of that."

A boy appeared at the end of the walk. His arms were full of newspapers,
and he rolled one with expert haste. Miss Williams could contain,
herself no further. She ran down the walk. The boy gave the paper a
sudden twist and threw it to her. She caught it and ran up-stairs to her
room and locked the door. For a moment she turned faint. Then she shook
the paper violently apart. She had not far to searc