nd so forth. On receipt from you of acknowledgment
of this letter, with copies of identification papers (your grandfather's
naturalization papers, your father's discharge from army, your own birth
certificate and marriage lines, and so forth) I will give myself
the pleasure of forwarding any further particulars you may wish, and
likewise place at your command my own services in obtaining possession
for you of your great uncle's estate.

"The said estate of Mr. Hugh Blake, deceased, amounts, in real and
personal property, including moneys in the bank, to about the sum,
roughly estimated, of 10,000 pounds.

"Respectfully, your servant,

"Andrew Blake, Solicitor and Att'y."

Nan had leaned over her mother's shoulder, big-eyed, scarce believing
the plainly written words she read. It was preposterous, ridiculous,
fanciful, a dream from which she must awake in a moment to the full
realization of their dreadful need of just such a godsend as this.

It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen the
letter and Momsey had read it silently to herself.

"Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?"

With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as the
letter slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs. Sherwood's eyes
were closed. She had fainted.

Chapter VI. A SPRAT FOR A HERRING

"I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet."

So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of Nan
close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet, quietly chafing
her hands in his own hard, warm palms. She pulled hers gently from his
clasp and rested them upon his head. Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray,
thick, and inclined to curl. She ran her little fingers into it and
clung tightly.

"Let, let me get my breath!" she gasped. Then, after a moment she smiled
brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling man. "It's all
over, Robert," she said.

"My dear!" he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle the cry
of fear that rose to her lips.

"It's all over," repeated the little woman. "All the worry, all the
poverty, all the uncertainty, all the hard times."

Mr. Sherwood looked startled indeed. He had no idea what the letter
from Scotland contained, and he feared that his wife, who had already
suffered so much, was for the moment quite out of her head.

"My poor Jessie," he began, but her low, sweet laugh stopped him.

"Not p