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Dr. Lancaster sighed and went back to his study, where much work of a different sort was waiting him. In a few minutes, Mrs. Lancaster with her open letter slipped to the study door, peeped in to see if her husband were writing and under the influence of the divine afflatus; but finding that he was still reading the morning paper, she went in to share the news of her rather amazing message.

“Read this, dear, and tell me if I am dreaming.”

Dr. Lancaster looked inquiringly at his wife, laid down the paper, took the letter and began to read it aloud.

My dear Grace:

It is at least three weeks, I know, since I wrote. But you can imagine how much there was to do and how sad it all was. I will write about it in detail later, but I have a special purpose in this letter.

Although Horace was Mother Garland’s only child and although she and I have lived together for so long, still it never occurred to me that she would leave the bulk of the property to me. That was one surprise, and another was that there is so much of it. Mother lived so simply and we never knew until after her death how many people and causes she had helped. She wrote me a beautiful letter, found with her will and other papers, and told me to accept it all with her love and to take the rest and travel I would need. Her home is to go to an old friend, so that relieves me of much care here, and I shall make headquarters at my own lovely place, as soon as my tenant’s lease expires. For the summer I shall go to the lake as usual, and may have a new cottage built.