seemed worth consideration.

Between the day of death and the funeral, Mr. Preston, the lawyer,
came over to Warren's Grove many times. He was always shut up with
Lydia Purcell when he came, though, had anyone listened to their
conversation, they would have found that Mrs. Bell was the subject of
their discourse.

But the strange thing, the strangest thing about it all, was that
Lydia Purcell and Mrs. Bell, from the moment Mrs. Bell was dead,
appeared to have changed places. Lydia, from ruling all, and being
feared by all, was now the person of no account. The cook defied her;
the dairymaid openly disobeyed her in some important matter relating
to the cream; and the boy whose business it was to attend to Lydia's
own precious poultry, not only forgot to give them their accustomed
hot supper, but openly recorded his forgetfulness over high tea in
the kitchen that same evening; and the strange thing was that Lydia
looked on, and did not say a word. She did not say a word or blame
anybody, though her face was very pale, and she looked anxious.

The children noticed the changed aspect of things, and commented
upon them in the way children will. To Maurice it was all specially
surprising, as he had scarcely been aware of Mrs. Bell's existence
during her lifetime.

"It must be a good thing to be dead, Cecile," he said to his little
sister, "people are very kind to you after you are dead, Cecile. Do
you think Aunt Lydia Purcell would give me a fire in our room after
I'm dead?"