Mrs. Putnam answered, "Wall, I s'pose there's a dozen or so to divide it among."
Lindy said, "Did you tell him who you were going to leave your money to?"
"No, I didn't," replied Mrs. Putnam. "But I did tell him that you wouldn't get a cent of it."
Lindy sobbed, "I think it is a shame, mother. I like him better than any young man I have ever met, and now after what you have told me I sha'n't see him again. I have a good mind to leave you for good and all and go to Boston to live."
"Wall, you're your own mistress," replied Mrs. Putnam, "and I'm my own mistress and pa's. Come to think on't, there was one thing I said to him that might sot him against yer."
"What was that?" demanded Lindy fiercely.
"Wall," said Mrs. Putnam, "he said he was twenty-three, and I sort a told him incidentally you was twenty-eight. You know yer thirty, and p'raps he might object to ye on account of yer age."
This was too much for Lindy. She rushed out of the room and up to her chamber, where she threw herself on her bed in a passion of tears.
"It's too bad," she cried. "I will see him again, I will find some way, and I'll win him yet, even if I am twenty-eight."