re your husband kept
his private papers."

"Certainly. He kept them in his desk. I locked it as soon as he died;
but here is the key. If there is a will, it is probably there."

"Very probably. We shall soon ascertain, then."

Squire Tisdale took the key, and Mrs. Preston led the way to her late
husband's desk. A momentary fear seized her.

"What if there was an earlier will, or two copies of the last?" she
thought. "I ought to have made sure by looking over the other papers."

But it was too late now. Besides, it seemed very improbable that there
should be another will. Had there been an earlier one, it would,
doubtless, have been destroyed on the drafting of the one she had
found. She reassured herself, therefore, and awaited with tranquillity
the result of the search.

The search was careful and thorough. Mrs. Preston desired that it
should be so. Knowing the wrong she had done to Andy and his mother,
as well as the town, she was unnecessarily anxious to appear perfectly
fair, and assured Squire Tisdale that, had there been a will, its
provisions should have been carried out to the letter.

"There is no will here," said the squire, after a careful search.

"I did not expect you would find one," said the widow; "but it was
necessary to make sure."

"Is there any other place where your husband kept papers?"

"We will look in the drawers and trunks," said Mrs. Preston; "but I
don't think any will be found."

None was found.

"Can I do anything more for you, Mrs. Preston?" asked the squire.

"I should like your advice, Squire Tisdale. I am not used to business,
and I would like the aid of your experience."

"Willingly," said the squire, who felt flattered.

"As my husband left no will, I suppose the estate goes to my son and
myself?"

"Undoubtedly."

"How ought I to proceed?"

"You should apply for letters of administration, which will enable you
to settle up the property."

"Will you help me to take the necessary steps?"

"Certainly."

"I should like to settle the estate as rapidly as possible, as I
intend to remove to Boston."

"Indeed? We shall be sorry to lose you. Can you not content yourself
here?"

"Everything will remind me of my poor husband," said Mrs. Preston,
with another application of the handkerchief to her still tearless
eyes.

Squire Tisdale was impressed with the idea that she had more feeling
than he had thought.

"I didn't think of that," he said, sympathetically. "N