The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1893-09-06

tor Henry Haddon, her bachelor
brother, and who, fully expecting that
her family would be provided Tor
through his generosity, was utterly
amazed and confounded when ut his
death, the old will, made in favor of n
distant cousin, when she had offended
him by marrying penniless army of
ficer was found unrescinded.
"But know" faltered Mrs. Grsy,
''that he forgave me all the past, and
meant to leave me and the girls every
thing that he had. For he told me so
again and again"
"My dear madam" said Mr.. Snuff
fey, the lawyer, IL haven't the least
doubt in the world of it. But all this
isn't legal evidence, you know, and
there's nothing on earth that men are
so uncertain shout as their wills. Tn
afraid-I'm very much afrald-that
Mr.. Richard Haddon will inherit
"But," gasped Alicia, "what is to
| become of us?"
The lawyer blew his nose in an inn
posing fashion on a big silk handker-
chief, and declared that he didn't
know.
Mrs. Gray, an inefficient little doll,
took to her bed, and dissolved into
floods of tears
Alicia, the beautiful, snt like Niobe,
contemplating her evil fate; but little
Sylvia, scarcely promoted from the
reign of short frocks and skipping
ropes, stepped boldly into the front
rank.
She it was who hired, at merely
nominal rent, the Nettley farmhouse,
ascertained from Mr.. SnufIey just
how much of the furniture was theirs,
and how much would descend to this
unknown Richard Hnddon.
She also discharged the servants,
only excepting old purblind Joanna,
the nurse, who declared that "she
/ didn't want no wages except Just the
run of her teeth :" and who took the
responsibility of everything with II
courage almost equal to that of Joan
/ of Are.
81 did think" Sylvia coniided to
old Joanna, "that Mr.. Richard Had
/ don might be like the heroes in novels,
who would either come on and marry
one of us three, or else generously
bestow the estate on us, in considera-
| tion that we've been brought mp to eX-
/ pect it, and that he owns two or three
cotton mills already. But he's fnt,
elderly man with wife and five chill
dren, and he says law is law, and he
feels constrained to abide by it. Hor-
rid old thing"
Joanna shook her cap frills.
"Real life mint bit like novels,
Miss Sylvia, fix it how you will, +"
said she, gloomily. "And arter all,
its Doctor Haddon we'd orter blame;
not Mr.. Richard"
"No," said Sylvia, "we won't blame
Uncle Henry He was always good to
us. And Tn quite sure if he hadn't
died so suddenly, he would have alter
ed his will
"Praps he would" sagely remarked
old Joanna-"p'raps he wouldn't.
There amt no dependence to be put
on men folks"
just at this moment JOANNA was
busy planning carpet on the sitting
room floor.
"It's the white one with the little
red stars all over it that your ma her
self brought to Haddon Court when
she came" :" said Joanna. 81 was cal
culatin' on the pretty Ispahan pattern
in the dinin'-room, but TINT sharp
nosed old lawyer said he couldn't al-
low the property OF his client, Mr..
Richard Haddon, to be tampered with.
Never mind; he couldn't object when
l took the ten-year file of the Scicn-
tiiic Messenger that was in your uncle :
wardrobe drawers, an packed 'em into
the wagon to steady the Chinese cabi-
net and the cherry-wood rockin'-
cheer.
Sylvia paused in her occupation OF
cutting the carpet to fit the angle of
the fireplace.
'What on earth do you want of the
ten-year file of the Scientific Messen-
ger" said she, ''unless it is to light
fires with? Uncle Harry used to like
to pore over the back numbers, and he