es and not interfere
with each other. I mean to bring my private business here in the rooms
over the extension. I'll keep the uptown office for interviews. And you,
Con?"

Truedale almost sprang to his feet, then, hands plunged in pockets, he
said:

"There does not seem to be anything for me to do; at least not until the
will is read. I think I shall go back--I left things at loose ends;
there will be time to consider--later."

"But, Con, there is something for you to do. You will understand after
you see the lawyers in the morning. There is a great deal of business:
many interests of your uncle's that he expected you to represent in his
name--to see that they were made secure. Dr. McPherson has told me
something about the will--enough to help me to begin."

Truedale looked blankly at Lynda. "Very well, after that--I will go
back," he spoke almost harshly. "I will arrange affairs somehow. I'm no
business man, but I daresay Uncle William chose wise assistants."

"What's the matter with you, Con?" Brace eyed his friend critically;
"you look fit as a fellow can. This has demanded a good deal of
self-denial and faith from us all, but somehow this duty was the biggest
thing in sight; we rather owe him that, I fancy. You know you cannot run
to cover just now, old man. This has been a jog, but by morning you'll
reconsider and play your part." There was a new note in Kendall's voice.
It was a call to something he hoped was in his friend, but which he had
never tested. There was a sudden fear, too, of the change that had come
to Truedale. It was not all physical. There was a baffling suggestion of
unreality about him that made him almost a stranger.

"I dare say you are right, Ken." Truedale walked the length of the room
and back. "I own to being cut up over this. I never did my part--I see
that now--and of course I'll endeavour to do what I should. My body's
all right but my nerves still jangle at a shock. To-morrow the whole
thing will settle into shape. You and Lynda have been--well--I cannot
express what I feel." He paused. The hour was late, and for the first
time he seemed to realize that the old home was not his in the sense it
once had been. Lynda understood the moment's hesitation and smiled
slightly.

"Con, there's one other thing in the house that remains as it was. Under
the eaves the small room that was yours is yours still. I saw to it
myself that not a book or picture was displaced. There are other rooms