here on Sunday, she won't be lonely."

"Norma, why don't you stay here, too--your husband's in Philadelphia,"
Leslie asked her. "Do! We shall have so much to do----"

"We haven't seen the will, but I believe Judge Lee is going to bring it
on Wednesday," Annie said, "and Chris said that Mama left you--well, I
don't know what! I wish you could arrange to stay the rest of the week,
at least!"

"I will!" Norma agreed. She had been feeling neglected and lonely, and
this unexpected friendliness was heartwarming.

"You've been a real comfort," Annie said, good-naturedly. "You're such a
sensible child, Norma. I hope one of these days--afterward"--and Annie
faintly indicated with her eyebrows the direction of the front room from
which the funeral procession would start to-morrow--"afterward, that
you'll let us know your husband better. And now it's long past midnight,
girls, and you ought to be in bed!"

It was mere casual civility on Annie's part, as accidental as had been
her casual unkindness a few hours before. But it lifted Norma's heart,
and she went out into the hall in a softer frame of mind than she had
known for a long time. She managed another word with Chris before going
to her room for almost nine hours of reviving and restoring sleep.

"Chris, I feel terribly about breaking this news to Aunt Annie and
Leslie while they feel so badly about Aunt Alice and Aunt Marianna!" she
said. Again Chris gave the hallway, where she had met him, a quick,
uneasy scrutiny before he answered her:

"Well, of course! But it can't be helped."

"But do you think that we could put it off until Wednesday, Chris, when
the will is to be read? Everyone will be here then, and it would seem a
good time to do it!"

"Yes," he consented, after a moment's thought, "I think that is a good
idea!" And so they left it.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Regina roused Norma just in time for the long, wearisome ceremonials of
the following day, a cold, bright gusty day, when the wet streets
flashed back sombre reflections of the motor wheels, and the newly
turned earth oozed flashing drops of water. The cortege left the old
Melrose house at ten minutes before ten o'clock, and it was four before
the tired, headachy, cramped members of the immediate family group
regathered there, to discard the crape-smothered hats, and the odorous,
sombre furs, and to talk quietly together as they sipped hot soup and
crumbled rolls. Everything had been changed, the flo