Our head-clerk was the person who presented himself at the summons to
come in. My aunt held up her hand. "Excuse me, Mr. Hartrey--I will attend
to you in one moment." She turned to the lawyer. "What other women are
likely to impose on me?" she asked.

"Women, otherwise worthy of your kindness, who may be associated with
disreputable connections," the lawyer replied. "The very women, if I know
anything of your quick sympathies, whom you would be most anxious to
help, and who might nevertheless be a source of constant trouble and
anxiety, under pernicious influences at home."

My aunt made no answer. For the moment, the lawyer's objections seemed to
annoy her. She addressed herself to Mr. Hartrey; asking rather abruptly
what he had to say to her.

Our head-clerk was a methodical gentleman of the old school. He began by
confusedly apologizing for his intrusion; and ended by producing a
letter.

"When you are able to attend to business, madam, honor me by reading this
letter. And, in the meantime, will you forgive me for taking a liberty in
the office, rather than intrude on your grief so soon after the death of
my dear and honored master?" The phrases were formal enough; but there
was true feeling in the man's voice as he spoke. My aunt gave him her
hand. He kissed it, with the tears in his eyes.

"Whatever you have done has been well done, I am sure," she said kindly.
"Who is the letter from?"

"From Mr. Keller, of Frankfort, madam."