written to his niece, and she had abstained from making any advances,
lest it might be thought that she was seeking assistance. Under these
circumstances she had little hope of a legacy, though she could not
help admitting the thought of how much a few hundred dollars would
help her, bridging over the time till Herbert should be old enough to
earn fair wages in some employment. If he could study two or three
years longer, she would have been very glad, for her son had already
shown abilities of no common order; but that was hardly to be thought
of.

"There, mother, I guess I've sawed wood enough to last you, unless you
are very extravagant," said Herbert, reentering the kitchen, and
taking off his cap. "Now is there anything else I can do? You know I
shall be gone two days, or a day and a half at any rate."

"I think of nothing, Herbert. You had better go to bed early, and get
a good night's rest, for you will have a hard day before you."

"So I will, but eight o'clock will be soon enough. Just suppose we
should get a legacy, after all, mother. Wouldn't it be jolly?"

"I wouldn't think too much of it, Herbert. There isn't much chance of
it. Besides, it doesn't seem right to be speculating about our own
personal advantage when Uncle Herbert lies dead in his house."

There was justice in this suggestion, but Herbert could hardly be
expected to take a mournful view of the death of a relative whom he
hardly remembered, and who had appeared scarcely to be aware of his
existence. It was natural that the thought of his wealth should be
uppermost in his young nephew's mind. The reader will hardly be