ace where the will was stored was designated, and they
knew it would there be found. But after the reading a little silence
fell upon them all.

The old mill owner was the first to break this. He did it almost
reverently.

"Speaking of wills, and after the events of the day, I've been thinking
of mine. By the way, Amy, I suppose thee'll cease to work for me now."

"I don't see why I should, unless my father needs me at home. We will
see about that afterward. Tell us thy plans, please. I'd like to hear
them."

"And I'd like to have thee make them for me."

"Make them? I?"

"Yes; in truth and deed. If thee were me and had as much money as I
have, and were just such a lonely, childless, forlorn old man, what
would thee do, that would accomplish the most good? according to thy
judgment, which I have found a fairly sound one."

The elder Kayes listened in astonishment. They had been prepared by
various matters for a great change in their kinsman, though not for one
so radical. But the father began to perceive how this change had been
wrought, and his heart gave thanks for the devoted, sunshiny daughter
who seemed to shed an influence for happiness and goodness on all whom
she knew. It was due to her, he believed, that this new Archibald had
replaced the old.

"Does thee mean it, truly?"

"Yes; I mean it. Let me hear. If it is possible, I will carry out the
wishes thee expresses, knowing they will be all for the benefit of
somebody deserving."

"Well, then, I'd help the unpractical Kaye family to get settled at
Burnside Farm, on the condition that for my services I was given a big,
delightful room in the old farmhouse, to live in and with them, forever
and ever and ever, so long as the dear Lord permitted--that's if I were
thee, Cousin Archibald."

"But would that ne'er-do-well Kaye family take in an old curmudgeon,
does thee think?"

"Never. A curmudgeon is a thing they detest. They'd take in a nice, fat,
old fellow, whose heart was so big it made his body grow to hold it, and
who meant to do all the good with his money that his money would do, and
not leave it for anybody to squabble over after he died."

"Excellent, Miss Wisdom; proceed."

"After I'd got a niche at Burnside, I'd take 'Charity House' and remodel
it into a Modern Industrial School. I'd have 'designing' taught, in
regular classes, by a well-known artist, named Cuthbert Kaye. I'd have
agriculture under the instruction of another expert, Fred