"You have all the papers in the case?"
"They are in the trunk upstairs. If you can ever push the claim do so—for the others' sake as well as your own."
"I will, father."
"How much it will be worth I do not know, but it may be several thousands of dollars, and that, along with this house, which is free and clear, may suffice to keep the family many a year."
At this juncture a violent fit of coughing seized Mr. Dare, and by the time he had recovered, his wife and the three girls entered.
CHAPTER III.
PREPARING TO START.
Two days later the blinds of the little cottage were closed, and crape hung in solemn black upon the front door. The neighbors, and indeed the whole population of the village, came and went continually—some few with genuine grief and sympathy, and the many others to satisfy a morbid curiosity regarding the man whose life had so suddenly ended.
It was a dismal enough time for the inmates. Richard did all a brave boy can do to comfort his mother and sisters, but he himself needed consolation fully as much as any of them. He had thought much of his father, and the cold form lying in the draped coffin in the parlor sent a chill through his heart that would have an effect in all after life.
At last the funeral was over, and the last of the neighbors had gone away. It was nearly sunset, and the entire family had gathered in the little kitchen to partake of a cup of tea, and to talk over the situation. Mrs. Dare sat in a rocking-chair beside the table, her face plainly showing her intense grief, and near her, on a low stool, sat Richard.