"

"How awful!" Miss Trueman murmured.

"Oh, yes, I felt pretty sick for a while. But we hadn't been any too
happy before she saw him, you see. It was a big mistake. She wasn't
exactly the kind of woman you'd be apt to know, you see. So perhaps I
got off easier than I deserved. But I never would have married while she
was alive. Not but what I had a right to, you understand, but I guess
I'm old-fashioned more ways than one. I read about her death a year or
so ago. I don't believe she had any too good a time herself. She had
an awful temper. But she certainly did have pretty hair," he concluded
thoughtfully.

Miss Trueman gasped.

"So I didn't want to see New York again; I just hated the place. And
this time I only came because I found out you and the girls were here,
and you were about all there was left. People die so. And I wanted to
find out about the old place. I wanted to buy it, if I could, when I
thought it was sold."

"But, Cousin Lorando, I couldn't sell it!"

"Oh, no, I s'pose not. Still, I might buy out the girls' thirds and rent
yours, couldn't I? I'd pay you as much and more than anybody else would,
I guess. And you could keep your interest. And keep half of the house,
for that matter, to use when you wanted--it's big enough."

"Why, yes, I don't see why I couldn't do that," she said thoughtfully.
"That would be nice."

"You see, I'm willing to make any arrangement, Cousin Jule. It's about
all there is that I'm fond of now, that old place. I haven't any folks
of my own, and not a chick nor child, and I love every stick and stone
of that farm. I love the country, and I love Connecticut country best
of all, I don't care if it is rocky. You can't make farming pay in New
England any more. But I don't need to make it pay; I'm willing to pay
for the pleasure of it. And I want to do something for the town, too. I
want 'em to be glad I came to settle there. Who's got the keys?"

"I have, right here," she answered. "The furniture is all ours, you see;
they haven't brought much, only they've changed things all around. I
haven't renewed the lease yet for this year."

"Well, now, look here, Jule," Mr. Bean cried eagerly, dropping the end
of his cigar into a bonbon-dish on the little side-table, "why don't you
run right up there with me to-night, and we'll look it all over and
sort of plan it out? We can go up on the six-thirty, and get there by
half-past ten, and stop at the hotel, and be there all ready to