nodded.

"Something Isom left. Fetch it to her, Sol."

Sol disappeared into the dread parlor where Isom lay, and came back with
a large envelope tied about with a blue string, and sealed at the back
with wax over the knotted cord.

"It's Isom's will," said Sol, giving it to Ollie. "When we was makin'
room to fetch in the coffin and lay Isom out in it last night, we had to
move the center table, and the drawer fell out of it. This paper was in
there along with a bundle of old tax receipts. As soon as we seen what
was on it, we decided it orto be put in your hands as soon as you woke
up."

"I didn't know he had a will," said Ollie, turning the envelope in her
hands, not knowing what to make of it, or what to do with it, at all.

"Read what's on the in-vellup," advised Sol, standing by importantly,
his hands on his hips, his big legs spread out.

Outside the sun was shining, tenderly yellow like a new plant. Ollie
marked it with a lifting of relief. There would be no rain on the
coffin. It was light enough to read the writing on the envelope where
she stood, but she moved over to the window, wondering on the way.

What was a will for but to leave property, and what need had Isom for
making one?

It was an old envelope, its edges browned by time, and the ink upon it
was gray.

My last Will and Testament. Isom Chase.

N. B.--To be opened by John B. Little, in case he is living at the
time of my death. If he is not, then this is to be filed by the
finder, unopened, in the probate court.

That was the superscription in Isom's writing, correctly spelled,
correctly punctuated, after his precise way in all business affairs.

"Who is John B. Little?" asked Ollie, her heart seeming to grow small,
shrinking from some undefined dread.

"He's Judge Little, of the county court now," said Sol. "I'll go over
after him, if you say so."

"After breakfast will do," said Ollie.

She put the envelope on the shelf beside the clock, as if it did not
concern her greatly. Yet, under her placid surface she was deeply moved.
What need had Isom for making a will?

"It saves a lot of lawin' and wastin' money on costs," said Sol, as if
reading her mind and making answer to her thought. "You'll have a right
smart of property on your hands to look after for a young girl like
you."

Of course, to her. Who else was there for him to will his property to? A
right smart, indeed. Sol's words were wise; they quieted her sudden,
s