efore in my life. They was about as old as he. Well,
by and by one of them stood up in the boat. I surmise he had been
drinkin'. Then, a minute afterward, I saw the boat upset, and the three
was strugglin' in the water.

"I didn't take no interest in the others, but I wanted to save Edward,
so I jumped into the water and made for him. That is, I thought I did.
But it so happened in the confusion that I got hold of the wrong boy,
and when I managed to get him on board my boat, I saw my mistake. It
was too late to correct it--excuse my emotion, ma'am," and Mr. Floyd
drew a red silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes; "but
when I looked out and couldn't see either of the other young fellers,
and realized that they were drowned, I felt awful bad."

Mrs. Trimble put her handkerchief to her eyes and moaned. The picture
drawn by Mr. Floyd was too much for her.

"I wish I could see the young man whose life you saved," she said,
after a pause, "Have you his name and address?"

"No, ma'am; he didn't even thank me. I didn't get even the price of a
glass of--sarsaparilla out of him."

Mr. Floyd came near saying whisky, but bethought himself in time.

"I have been much interested by your sad story, Mr. Floyd," said the
sorrow-stricken mother. "You seem to have a good and sympathetic
heart."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Floyd; "that is my weakness."

"Don't call it a weakness! It does you credit."

Mr. Floyd exchanged a sly glance of complacency with Abner Trimble, who
was pleased that his agent got off so creditably. He had evidently
produced a good impression on Mrs. Trimble.

"You see, my dear," he said, gently, "that there can be no doubt about
poor Edward's death. I have thought, under the circumstances, that you
would feel like making a will, and seeing that I was suitably provided
for. As matters stand your property would go to distant cousins, and
second cousins at that, while I would be left out in the cold.

"I know, of course, that you are younger than myself and likely to
outlive me, but still, life is uncertain. I don't care much for money,
but I wouldn't like to die destitute, and so I asked Mr. Coleman, the
lawyer, to come round. I think I hear his ring now. Will you see him?"

"Yes, if you wish it. I care very little what becomes of the property
now my boy is no more."

Mr. Trimble went downstairs, and returned with a very
respectable-looking man of middle age, whom he introduced as Mr.
Coleman.