third, with energy. "And it was tried on four times, if it was once. She
is evidently open to consolation."

But Miss Webster had by no means ceased to furnish material for comment.
A month later Mrs. Meeker burst in on Mrs. Holt. "What do you think?"
she cried. "Old Miss Webster is refurnishing the house from top to
bottom. I ran in just now, and found everything topsy-turvy. Thompson's
men are there frescoing--frescoing! All the carpets have been taken up
and are not in sight. Miss Webster informed me that she would show us
what she could do, if she was seventy-odd, but that she didn't want any
one to call until everything was finished. Think of that house being
modernized--that old whited sepulchre!"

Mrs. Holt had dropped the carriage-blanket she was embroidering for her
daughter's baby. "Are you dreaming?" she gasped. "Hiram will haunt the
place!"

"Just you wait. Miss Webster hasn't waited all these years for nothing."

Nor had she. The sudden and stupendous change in her fortunes had routed
grief--made her dizzy with possibilities. She had no desire to travel,
but she had had a lifelong craving for luxury. She might not have many
more years to live, she reiterated to Miss Williams, but during those
years her wealth should buy her all that her soul had ever yearned for.

In due course the old exclusive families of the infant city received
large squares of pasteboard heavily bordered with black, intimating that
Miss Webster would be at home to her friends on Thursdays at four of the
clock. On the first Thursday thereafter the parlor of Webster Hall was
as crowded as on the day of the funeral. "But who would ever know the