housekeeper. "Mrs. Bradley and I are going to have a chat by ourselves,
and I will soon return."

"You are looking thin, Mr. John," said Mrs Bradley.

"Am I thinner than usual? I never was very corpulent, you know. How is
my uncle's health? He says he is well."

"He is pretty well, but he isn't as young as he was."

"I think he looks older," said John. "But that is not surprising--at his
age. He is seventy, isn't he?"

"Not quite. He is sixty-nine."

"His father died at seventy-one."

"Yes."

"But that is no reason why my uncle should not live till eighty. I hope
he will."

"We all hope so," said the housekeeper; but she knew, while she spoke,
that if, as she supposed, Mr. Wharton's will contained a generous legacy
for her, his death would not afflict her much. She suspected also that
John Wade was waiting impatiently for his uncle's death, that he might
enter upon his inheritance. Still, their little social fictions must be
kept up, and so both expressed a desire for his continued life, though
neither was deceived as to the other's real feeling on the subject.