f, but my time is comin'.

"When I'm dead an' have gone to heaven, the first thing I'm goin' to do is
to hunt up Henry. They say there ain't no marriage nor givin' in marriage
up there, but I reckon there's seven men there that'll at least recognise
their wife when they see her a-comin' in. I'm goin' to pick up my skirts
an' take off my glasses, so's I'll be all ready to skedaddle, for I expect
to leave my rheumatiz behind me, my dear, when I go to heaven--leastways,
no place will be heaven for me that's got rheumatiz in it--an' then I'm
goin' to say: 'Henry, in all the four years you was livin' with me, you
was eatin' meat, an' you never knowed it. You're nothin' but a human
cemetery.' Oh, my dear, it's worth while dyin' when you know you're goin'
to have pleasure like that at the other end!"

XII

Her Gift to the World

"I regret, my dear madam," said Lawyer Bradford, twisting uneasily in his
chair, "that I can offer you no encouragement whatsoever. The will is
clear and explicit in every detail, and there are no grounds for a
contest. I am, perhaps, trespassing upon the wishes of my client in giving
you this information, but if you are remaining here with the hope of
pecuniary profit, you are remaining here unnecessarily."

He rose as though to indicate that the interview was at an end, but Mrs.
Holmes was not to be put away in that fashion. Her eyes were blazing and
her weak chin trembled with anger.

"Do you mean to tell me," she demanded, "that Ebeneezer voluntarily died
without making some sort of provision for me and my helpless little
children?"

"Your distinguished relation," answered Mr. Bradford, slowly, "certainly
died voluntarily. He announced the date of his death some weeks before it
actually occurred, and superintended the making of his own coffin. He
wrote out minute directions for his obsequies, had his grave dug, and his
shroud made, burned his papers, rearranged his books, made his will--and
was found dead in his bed on the morning of the day set for his departure.
A methodical person," muttered the old man, half to himself; "a most
methodical and systematic person."

Mrs. Holmes shuddered. She was not ordinarily a superstitious woman, but
there was something uncanny in this open partnership with Death.

"There was a diamond pin," she suggested, moodily, "worth, I should think,
some fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars. Ebeneezer gave it to dear Rebecca
on their wedding day, and she