Lucy asked.

"Ain't you got no interest in what I'm goin' for?" the woman demanded
querulously.

"I'm always interested in anything you wish to tell me," answered the
girl, "but I thought it was not my place to inquire into your business."

"It is my business, an' I can keep it to myself," said Ellen tartly. "But
I'll tell you this much--I'm goin' to get my will made."

The hard blue eyes fixed themselves on Lucy's face narrowly.

"My will!" repeated Ellen, a challenge in her tone. "I s'pose you thought
it was all made long ago; but it warn't. I'm goin' to make it to-day."

At a loss how to reply, Lucy nodded.

"You don't seem much concerned 'bout it," observed her aunt peevishly.
"Ain't you curious to know who I'm goin' to leave my property to?"

"No."

"You ain't!"

"No."

"S'pose I was to give it all to you."

"That would be very kind."

"Yes, it would be--it would be kind," agreed Ellen. "But mebbe I ain't
a-goin' to. Mebbe I'm goin' to will it to somebody else."

"That's your affair."

"I'll bet, for all your indifference, you'd be mad as a wet hen if I was
to leave it to somebody else," went on the woman provokingly.

"No, I shouldn't. Why should I?"

"'Cause you're my next of kin. By rights it had oughter come to you,
hadn't it?"

"I don't know the New Hampshire laws."

With an admiring glance at her niece, Ellen broke into an unpleasant
laugh.

"There's no trappin' you, Miss Lucy Webster, is there?" she exclaimed,
rising from her chair and clapping on her hat. "You're a cute one, an
awful cute one!"

"Why?"

"Oh, you don't need to be told," chuckled Ellen. "Anybody as cute as you
are, _knows._"

With that she was gone.

All the morning the girl busied herself within doors, exchanging one duty
for another. Toward noon, however, she made an excursion to the garden for
lettuce and radishes. Her pathway lay close to the wall, and on her return
to the house she was amazed to see lying on the topmost stone of the
ruined heap a mammoth bunch of sweet peas. There was no mistaking the fact
that the flowers were intended for her, for her name had been hastily
scrawled on a bit of crumpled paper and placed beside them. Nothing could
have surprised her more than to stumble upon this offering.

Evidently the blossoms had just been gathered, for the raindrops of the
previous night still sparkled among their petals, jeweling with brilliancy
their kaleidoscopic riot of color.

She caught the