d. I found it among some other papers
shortly after his death and after Jerry left. When York was here he
confirmed the report at my insistent request. Read it."

Jerusha Darby read, realizing, as she did so, that neither her husband
nor York Macpherson had succeeded in doing what Eugene Wellington had
done easily. Each had tried in vain to have her read that paper.

"You knew the condition of this estate for three years, and never told
me. Why?" The old woman's face was very pale.

"I did not dare to do so," Eugene replied, that line of weakness in his
face which Jerry had noted three years before revealing itself for the
first time to her aunt.

"This is sufficient," she said, in a quiet sort of way. "To-morrow I
make my will--just to be sure. I shall probably outlive many younger
people than myself. Write and tell Jerry I have done it. This time
to-morrow night will see my estate settled so far as the next generation
is concerned. If I do not do it, Eugene, some distant and improvident
relatives of Cornelius will claim it. Send the lawyer out in the
morning."

"All right, Aunt Jerry. I must go now. I have a club meeting in the city
and I can make it easily. The car runs like the wind with Henderson at
the wheel. Good-by."

And Eugene Wellington was gone.

"Three years ago I'd have left everything to him if I had been ready to
make a will then. I'm ready now, and any time in the next ten years I
can change it if I want to. But this will bring things my way, after
all. I told York I'd never forgive Jerry!"

Mrs. Darby paused, and a smile lighted her wrinkled face.

"To think of that girl just shouldering her burden and walking off with
it. If she isn't Brother Jim over again! Never writing a word of
complaint. Oh, Jerry! Jerry! I'll make it up to you to-morrow."

To Jerusha Darby money made up for everything. She sat long in the
rose-arbor, thinking, maybe, of the years when Jerry's children and her
children's children would dominate the Winnowoc countryside as they of
the Swaim blood had always done. And then, because she was tired, and
the afternoon sunshine was warm, and her willow rocking-chair was very
comfortable--she fell asleep.

<tb>

"Went just like her brother, the late Jeremiah Swaim," the papers said,
the next evening.

Instead of the lawyer, it was the undertaker who came to officiate. And
the last will and testament, and the too-late evidence of a forgiving
good-will, all were impossible