Chapter I. Around the Breakfast Table

"Well, wife," said Mr. Benjamin Stanton, as he sat down to a late breakfast, "I had a letter from Ohio yesterday."

"From Ohio? Who should write you from Ohio? Anyone I know?"

"My sister, Margaret, you remember, moved out there with her husband ten years ago."

"Oh, it‘s from her, is it?" said Mrs. Stanton, indifferently.

"No," said her husband with momentary gravity. "It‘s from a Dr. Kent, who attended her in her last illness. Margaret is dead!"

"Dear me!" returned Mrs. Stanton, uncomfortably； "and I am just out of mourning for my aunt. Do you think it will be necessary for us to go into mourning for your sister?"

"No, I think not," said her husband. "Margaret has lived away from us so long, and people won‘t know that we have had a death in the family unless we mention it."

"Was that all the letter said--about the death, I mean?"

"Why, no," said Mr. Stanton, with a little frown. "It seems Marga

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