"Yes," said Iris, listlessly. "I knew Aunt Ursula meant to leave it to you, but I don't know whether she did or not. And I don't care. I only care for one thing——"
But Miss Darrel was not listening. She was observing and admiring the house itself—the colonial staircase, the well-proportioned rooms and halls, and the attractive furnishings.
"I'll give you the rose guest room," Iris said, leading her toward it, as they reached the upper hall. "Winston Bannard is here, but no other visitors. If there are other heirs, I suppose Mr. Chapin has notified them."
"I suppose so," returned Miss Darrel, preoccupiedly. "When will the services be held?"
"This afternoon at two. It will be a large funeral. Everybody in Berrien knew Aunt Ursula, and people will come up from New York. Now, have you everything you want to make you comfortable in here?"
"Yes, thank you," replied Miss Darrel, after a quick, comprehensive glance round the room, "and, wait a moment, Iris—mayn't I call you Iris?"
"Yes, indeed, I'm glad to have you."
"I only want to say that I want to be your friend. Please let me and come to me freely for comfort or advice or anything I can do to help you."
"Thank you, Miss Darrel, I am indeed glad to have a friend, for I am lonely and frightened. But I can't say more now, someone is calling me."
Iris ran downstairs and found Winston Bannard eagerly asking for her.