"Come in, Master Walter, come in, and have a cup of hot tea. It'll make you feel better."

 

A cup of hot tea was Nancy's invariable remedy for all troubles, physical or mental.

 

"Tell me about it, Nancy; I—I can't think it's true. It's so sudden."

 

"That's the way I feel too, Master Walter. And only yesterday morning, too, he looked just as usual. Little did I think what was to be."

 

"When was he first taken sick?"

 

[Pg 29]

 

Walter had seated himself on a chair in the hall, and waited anxiously for an answer.

 

"I didn't notice nothing till last night just after supper. Richard went to the post-office and got your father's letters. When they came he took 'em into the library, and began to read them. There was three, I remember. It was about an hour before I went into the room to tell him the carpenter had called about repairing the carriage-house. When I came in, there lay your poor father on the carpet, senseless. He held a letter tight in his hand. I screamed for help. Mr. Brier, the carpenter, and Richard came in and helped me to lift up your poor father, and we sent right off for the doctor."

 

"What did the doctor say?"

 

"He said it was a paralytic² stroke,—a very bad one,—and ordered him to be put to bed directly. But it was of no use. He never recovered, but breathed his last this morning at eight o'clock. The doctor told me I must telegraph to your teacher; and so I did."

 

"Nancy, have you got that letter which my father was reading?"

 

 

"Yes, Master Walter, I put it in my pocket without reading. I think there must have been bad news in it."

 

She drew from her pocket a letter, which she placed in Walter's hands. He read it hastily³, and it confirmed his suspicions. It was from a lawyer Mr. Conrad had asked to make

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