But never mind, Aunt Mary, it's all right.

Your afft. nephew,

John Watkins, Jr., Denham.

When Lucinda returned from drying her feet, Aunt Mary had her handkerchief in one hand and spectacles in the other.

"Saints and sinners!" cried the maid, in a voice that grated with sympathy. "He ain't writ to say he's dead, is he?"

"No," said Aunt Mary; "but he isn't as well as he makes out. There's no deceivin' me, Lucinda!"

"Dear! dear!" cried the Trusty and True; "is that so? What's to be done?

Do you want Joshua to run anywhere?"

Aunt Mary suddenly regained her composure.

"Run anywhere?" she asked, with her usual bitter intonation. "If you ain't the greatest fool I ever was called upon to bed and board, Lucinda! Will you kindly explain to me how settin' Joshua trottin' is goin' to do any mortal good to my poor boy away off there in that dreadful city?"

"He could telegraph to Miss Arethusa," Lucinda suggested. The suggestion bespoke the superior moral quality of Lucinda's make-up-her own feeling toward Arethusa being considered.

"I don't want her," said Aunt Mary with a positiveness that was final. "I don't want her. My heavens, Lucinda, ain't we just had enough of her?

Anyhow, if you ain't, I have. I don't want her, nor no livin' soul except my trunk; an' I want that just as quick as Joshua can haul it down out of the attic."

"You ain't thinkin' of goin' travelin'!" the maid cried in consternation; "you can't never be thinkin' of _that?_"

"No," said her mistress with fine irony; "I want the trunk to make a pie out of, probably."

Lucinda was speechless.

"Lucinda," her mistress said, after a few seconds had faded away unimproved, "seems to me I mentioned wantin' Joshua to get down a trunk-seems to me I did."

The maid turned and left the room. She felt more or less dazed. Nothing so startling as Aunt Mary's wanting a trunk had happened in years.

Disinheriting Jack was not in it by comparison. She went slowly away to find Joshua and found him in the farther end of the rear woodhouse-John Watkins, like several of his ilk, having marked each forward step in the world by a back extension of his house.

Joshua was chopping wood; his ax was high in the air. He also was calm and unsuspecting.

"She's goin' to the city all alone!" Lucinda's voice suddenly proclaimed behind him.

The ax fell.

"Who says so?" its handler demanded, facing about in surprise.

"She says so."

Joshua picked up the ax and poised it afresh. He was himself again.

"She'll go then," he said calmly.

Lucinda marched around in front of him, and planted herself firmly among the chips.

"Joshua Whittlesey!"

"We can't help it," said Joshua stolidly. "We're here to mind her. If she wants to go to New York, or to change her will, all we've got to do is to be simple witnesses."

"She don't want Miss Arethusa telegraphed," said Lucinda.

"I don't blame her," said Joshua; "if I was her and if I was goin' to New York I wouldn't want no one telegraphed."

"She wants her trunk out of the attic."

"Then she'll get her trunk out of the attic. When does she want it?"

"She wants it now."

[Ill.u.s.tration 3]

"She's goin' to the city all alone!' Lucinda's voice suddenly proclaimed behind him."

"Then she'll get it now," said Joshua. From the general trend of this and other remarks of Joshua the reader will readily divine why he had been in Aunt Mary's employ for thirty years, and had always been characterized by her as "a most sensible man," and anyone who had seen the alacrity with which the trunk was brought and the respectful attention with which Aunt Mary's further commands were received would have been forced to coincide in her opinion.

The packing of the trunk was a task which fell to Lucinda's lot and was performed under the eagle eye of her mistress. Aunt Mary's ideas of what she would require were delightfully unsophisticated and brought up short on the farther-side of her tooth brush and her rubbers. Nevertheless she agreed in Lucinda's suggestions as to more extensive supplies.

Late that afternoon Joshua drove into town (amidst a wealth of mud spatters) and dispatched the answer to Jack's letter. Aunt Mary was urged to haste by several considerations, some well defined, and others not so much so. To Lucinda she imparted her terrible anxiety over the dear boy's health, but not even to herself did she admit her much more terrible anxiety lest Arethusa or Mary should suddenly appear and insist on accompanying her. She wanted to go, but she wanted to go alone.

Jack telegraphed a response that night, and his aunt left by the Monday morning train. She had a six o'clock breakfast, and drove into town at a quarter of nine so as to be absolutely certain not to miss the train.

Joshua drove, with the trunk perched beside him. It was a small and una.s.suming trunk, but Aunt Mary was not one who believed in putting on airs just because she was rich. Lucinda sat on the back seat with her mistress.

"I'm sure I hope you'll enjoy yourself," she said.

"Of course he's nothing but a boy," Aunt Mary replied,-"an' I've told you a hundred times that boys will be boys and we mustn't expect otherwise."

They arrived on time, and only had an hour and three-quarters to wait in the station. Toward the last Aunt Mary grew very nervous for fear something had happened to the train; but it came to time according to the waiting-room clock. Joshua put her aboard, and she soon had nothing left to worry over except the wonder as to whether Jack would be on hand to meet her or not.

Joshua drove back home, let Lucinda out at the door, and put the horse up before going in to where she sat in solitary glory.

"I wonder what _he's_ up to?" she said with a pleasant sense of unlimited freedom as to the subject and duration of the conversation.

"Suthin', of course," was the answer.

"Do you s'pose he's really sick?"

"No, I don't."

"Do you s'pose she thinks he's really sick?"

"Mebbe."