"It is so kind of you to come; so kind to help me in my terrible
trouble. God will reward you. I never can. Now, dear, I must have
particulars, if its kills me. To help get them, I must tell you this:
My L---- was my youngest, my petted, spoilt, baby girl. Her every wish
was gratified from the time she drew her first breath. Nothing was too
good for her, and no expense spared. We sent her to Europe to complete
her education. Did you ever hear her sing?"...

Erelong this soul-stricken mother lay in her bed sleeping as only the
grief-exhausted can sleep; then I left for a much-needed rest. After a
few hours I returned. When I left her late that night, she had sent for
poor terrified Miss Blank.

When I came down-stairs the following morning, Mrs. Baker told me that
some one was anxious to talk with me over the telephone--some one who
would not give her name, only her number. Going to the telephone, I
soon recognized Miss Blank's voice.

"Good morning, Mrs. Roberts," she begin. "I've been very anxious to get
you, but would not have your rest disturbed, as I was sure you must be
worn out. I've been talking to L----'s poor mother all night long, and
she has agreed to a funeral service which we can attend. Neither she
nor her husband will be present; _only our kind_. We want to know if
you will conduct it for us."

"Where, Miss Blank?" I inquired.

"In the undertaker's chapel tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock. They
are going to take her remains back to her old home on Monday's steamer.