The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1905-06-23

divide. When we were all assembled
Mr.. Boone read the will. There are
legacies of a thousand dollars to each
of my uncles, to Aunt Mary and to
me as his other sisters child"
"And what do these bequests
amount to-"
"That is what Uncle Ebenezer
asked But Mr.. Boone replied that
nothing would be known until the es-
tate was realized. Uncle Hiram
laughed at his share-a thousand dol
lars, he said, wasn't worth the trouble
a rainy day. Then they all fell to dis
cussing the reason of the condition at
tached to the legacies."
Again the listener pricked up his
ears.
What was that?"
"That no one should attend the
funeral-the legacy in each case was
to be forfeited if the beneficiary fol-
lowed the body to the grave"
by Jove, I don't wonder! 1t was
a subtle little stroke. Your uncle
wished no mockery of mourning before
the world"
But my legacy is exactly in the
same terms,'' said the girl giancing up
at her lover And Uncle Henry and
| were always the best Of friends"
"Well, he treated you pretty shah
billy in the end, ranking you merely
with people who had used him so ILL.,"
You must not speak like that" was
the firm rejoinder. Such a thought
would be only worthy of those others,
who went down their dead brothers
stairs grumbling and disputing about
the meaning of the will. It was a
shameful, pitiful display. | shall
never forget it never, never!''
1T will mean lot to us, Nettie,
dear" he went on. you needn't go
back to the schoolhouse. Why can't
we marry now, right aWay?"
This is no time to talk Of such
thing" she said, coldly. Only few
hours ago | gazed on my dead uncle's
face, when the others had gone. For
many long day there will be sadness
in my heart Now leave me, Norman.
This evening l wish to be alone"
On the following evening he found
himself again in her rooms. She had
been out all day, but it could not be
long now before she would be home
So the landlady, who knew the rela-
tion in which the young people stood.
had meantime made him comfortable,
turning on the electric light and re-
pleniShing the stove. Heavy rain, un-
remitting during several days, was
still FLASHING dismally outside.
At last he heard the outer door open
and be came to a halt. A minute later
she entered the room. AS he closed
the door behind her he caught
glimpse of the dripping cloak, umbrel-
la and rubbers that had been surren-
dered to the landlady in the hall.
But, disincumbered from her panoply
of waterproofing, the girl was dry and
worm, rosy with the cold and exercise.
She gave him her hand. but evaded
his effort to take her into his arms
and seated herself by the table.
Where nave you been?" he asked.
Where would you think?" she an
swered
He gazed at her black gown, her
black hat-watched her, drawing the
black kid gloves from her fingers.
You don't mean to tell me that you
went to the funeral?" His voice vi
brated with the restraint he was i'm
posing upon himself.
"Yes, l have been to poor Uncle
Henry's funeral" With grave self
possession she unpinned her hat and
laid it by her side on the table.
He took a step toward and looked
down at her.
What foolishness! What utter fool
ishness!" he exclaimed, bitterly.
"When | didn't find you at home | be-
gan to fear it. So you have sacrificed
common sense to sentiment. You have
deliberately thrown away that legacy.
|. Her. face paled. She beckoned him
to a chair at little distance. =
eyes, I threw away that legacy Sit
down, Norman. When you left me last
night | weighed every question in
volyed Was | to allow the uncle who
had always been kind to me and my
mother to go to his grave unwept and
nf 1yiy to i'm o