[Pg 25] And then, one bright April morning, came the great message! My heart leaps, even yet, when I think of it. Just as I was starting for school, a handsome, well-dressed man of middle age turned in at our gate. “This is where Mrs. Truman lives, isn’t it?” he asked, seeing me standing in the door. “Yes, sir,” I said, and wondered with some misgiving whether mother could have been mistaken in the date of the mortgage. “I should like to see her for a few minutes, if she is at home,” he added. “Come in, sir,” I said, “and I will call her.” But we met mother coming down the front stair as we entered the hall. “This is my mother, sir,” I said. “My name is Chester, Mrs. Truman,” began our caller. “I come from Plumfield.” “From Plumfield!” cried mother. “Oh, then—Aunt Nelson—” “Is dead—yes,” said Mr. Chester, gently. “Sit down, sir,” said mother, a little tremulously, leading the way into the sitting-room. “I—I fear,” she added, as she sat down opposite him, [Pg 26]“that I have been neglectful of her. Oh, I am so sorry! I had always hoped to see her again and tell her— If she had only sent me word that she was ill!” [Pg 26] “She wasn’t ill,” broke in Mr. Chester. “Not ill, at least, in the sense of being bed-fast. She was in her usual health, so far as any of her neighbours knew. She was not very intimate with any of them, and lived a rather secluded life. She owned a great, old-fashioned house, you know, with large grounds surrounding it, and she lived there with two old servants, a man who attended to the outdoor work, and his wife, who acted as cook and house-servant. Three days ago, the latter found her mistress dead in bed. She was smiling, and had evidently passed away peacefully in her sleep.” “But three days ago!” cried mother. “Why was I not told at once?” “I was simply carrying out her commands, Mrs.
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