Mr. Hazlitt, as they called him, gave him a short look, smiled again, and said: “You know best; anything, so that my Lucy gets her five thousand.”
The stranger, straightening himself, asked if he could not have more light, at which the nurse brought a candle. Immediately the stranger took a paper from under his cloak and opened it. The nurse held the candle and the stranger began to read:
The last will and testament of Abram Hazlitt of Chicago, Cook county, Illinois.
First: I direct all my just debts and funeral expenses to be paid.
Second: I give, devise, and bequeath to——
“Is your daughter’s name Lucy, and is the sum you wish given her five thousand dollars exact?” asked the stranger, sitting down at the small table near by and taking out a pen from his pocket.
“Yes,” was the feeble response, “five thousand dollars to Lucy Ellen, my only and much-beloved child.”
The stranger rapidly wrote in the words, adding, “she lives in Chicago, I suppose.”
It was the nurse who answered:
“She is in this hospital, too, sir; but not for any mortal complaint. Time and care will restore her.”