er head, smoothed
down her hair, which was very soft and beautiful, readjusted her
dress, and sat up, looking out at the window.

"If you stay here," continued Mrs. Bell, "you will only spend your
time in useless and hopeless grief."

"No," said Mary Erskine, "I am not going to do any such a thing."

"Have you begun to think at all what you shall do?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"No," said Mary Erskine. "When any great thing happens, I always have
to wait a little while till I get accustomed to knowing that it has
happened, before I can determine what to do about it. It seems as if
I did not more than half know yet, that Albert is dead. Every time the
door opens I almost expect to see him come in."

"Do you think that you shall move to the new house?" asked Mrs. Bell.

"No," said Mary Erskine, "I see that I can't do that. I don't wish to
move there, either, now."

"There's one thing," continued Mrs. Bell after a moment's pause, "that
perhaps I ought to tell you, though it is rather bad news for you. Mr.
Keep says that he is afraid that the will, which Albert made, is not
good in law."

"Not good! Why not?" asked Mary Erskine.

"Why because there is only one witness The law requires that there
should be three witnesses, so as to be sure that Albert really signed
the will."

"Oh no," said Mary Erskine. "One witness is enough, I am sure. The
Judge of Probate knows you, and he will believe you as certainly as he
would a dozen witnesses."

"But I suppose," said Mrs. Bell, "that it does not depend upon the
Judge of Probate. It depends upon the law."

Mary Erskine was silent. Presently she opened her drawer and took out
the will and looked at it mysteriously. She could not read a word of
it.

"Read it to me, Mrs. Bell," said she, handing the paper to Mrs. Bell.

Mrs. Bell read as follows:

"I bequeath all my property to my wife, Mary Erskine. Albert
Forester. Witness, Mary Bell."

"I am sure that is all right," said Mary Erskine. "It is very plain,
and one witness is enough. Besides, Albert would know how it ought to
be done."

"But then," she continued after a moment's pause, "he was very sick
and feeble. Perhaps he did not think. I am sure I shall be very sorry
if it is not a good will, for if I do not have the farm and the stock,
I don't know what I shall do with my poor children."

Mary Erskine had a vague idea that if the will should prove invalid,
she and her children would lose the property, in