"No, no! Where's Serena?"

"She--she--what--"

"Where's SERENA, I ask you?"

"In her room, I cal'late. For mercy sakes, what--"

But the captain did not answer. Through dining-room, sitting-room, and
parlor he galloped, and up the front stairs to the bedroom occupied by
himself and wife. Mrs. Dott was standing before the mirror, red-faced
and panting, both arms behind her and her fingers busily engaged. Her
husband's breath was almost gone by the time he reached the foot of the
stairs; consequently his entrance was a trifle less noisy and startling
than his sky-rocket flight through the kitchen. It is doubtful if his
wife would have noticed even if it had been. She caught a glimpse of him
in the mirror, and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh, it's you, is it!" she panted. "My, I'm glad! For mercy sakes fasten
those last three hooks; I'm almost distracted with 'em."

But the hooks remained unfastened for the time. Captain Dan threw
himself into a chair and waved the letter.

"Serena," he cried, puffing like a stranded porpoise, "what--WHAT do you
suppose has happened? Aunt Laviny is dead."

Serena turned. "Dead!" she repeated. "Your Aunt Lavinia Dott? The rich
one?"