, even if she wasn't young, was a beautiful woman,
and smarter than Susy ever thought of being."

"Susy had the kind of smartness that catches men," said the lawyer,
with a slight laugh.

"I always wondered if John Fletcher hadn't really done a good deal to
make Abrahama think he did want her," said Sylvia. "He was just that
kind of man. I never did think much of him. He was handsome and glib,
but he was all surface. I guess poor Abrahama had some reason to cut
off Susy. I guess there was some double-dealing. I thought so at the
time, and now this will makes me think so even more."

Again there was a silence, and again that expression of bewilderment,
almost amounting to idiocy, reigned in the faces of the husband and
wife.

"I never thought old Abraham White should have made the will he did,"
said Henry, articulating with difficulty. "Susy had just as much
right to the property, and there she was cut off with five hundred
dollars, to be paid when she came of age."

"I guess she spent that five hundred on her wedding fix," said Sylvia.

"It was a queer will," stammered Henry.

"I think the old man always looked at Abrahama as his son and heir,"
said the lawyer. "She was named for him, and his father before him,
you know. I always thought the poor old girl deserved the lion's
share for being saddled with such a name, anyhow."

"It was a dreadful name, and she was such a beautiful girl and
woman," said Sylvia. She already spoke of Abrahama in the past tense.
"I wonder where the niece is," she added.

"The last I heard of her she was living with some rich people in New
York," replied Meeks. "I think they took her in some capacity after
her father and mother died."

"I hope she didn't go out to work as hired girl," said Sylvia. "It
would have been awful for a granddaughter of Abraham White's to do
that. I wonder if Abrahama never wrote to her, nor did anything for
her."

"I don't think she ever had the slightest communication with Susy
after she married, or her husband, or the daughter," replied Meeks.
"In fact, I practically know she did not."

"If the poor girl didn't do well, Abrahama had a good deal to answer
for," said Sylvia, thoughtfully. She looked worried. Then again that
expression of almost idiotic joy overspread her face. "That old White
homestead is beautiful--the best house in town," she said.

"There's fifty acres of land with it, too," said Meeks.

Sylvia and Henry looked at each other. Bot