Home for Friendless Fortunes. Old Mr. Brewster left his affairs in
order. The will nominated Jerome Buskirk as executor, and he was
instructed, in conclusion, to turn over to Montgomery Brewster,
the day after the will was probated, securities to the amount of
one million dollars, provided for in clause four of the
instrument. And so it was that on the 26th of September young Mr.
Brewster had an unconditional fortune thrust upon him, weighted
only with the suggestion of crepe that clung to it.

Since his grandfather's death he had been staying at the gloomy
old Brewster house in Fifth Avenue, paying but two or three
hurried visits to the rooms at Mrs. Gray's, where he had made his
home. The gloom of death still darkened the Fifth Avenue place,
and there was a stillness, a gentle stealthiness about the house
that made him long for more cheerful companionship. He wondered
dimly if a fortune always carried the suggestion of tube-roses.
The richness and strangeness of it all hung about him
unpleasantly. He had had no extravagant affection for the grim old
dictator who was dead, yet his grandfather was a man and had
commanded his respect. It seemed brutal to leave him out of the
reckoning--to dance on the grave of the mentor who had treated him
well. The attitude of the friends who clapped him on the back, of
the newspapers which congratulated him, of the crowd that expected
him to rejoice, repelled him. It seemed a tragic comedy, haunted
by a severe dead face. He was haunted, too, by memories, and by a
sharp regret for his own foolish thoughtlessness. Even the fortune
itself weighed upon him at moments with a half-defined melancholy.

Yet the situation was not without its compensations. For several
days when Ellis called him at seven, he would answer him and thank