There was a harsh, gloating tone in Mrs. DeBrugh's voice as she spoke. She was the master now. There was no Hector to think of.
"Letty," she said, "for some time now I have been considering closing the house. I'm lonely here. I intend to go to the city and live with my sister. So, you see, I shan't be needing you any longer. I'll be leaving within the next two days. I'm sorry."
Letty was speechless. She had expected something terrible, but not this. This wasn't so! Mrs. DeBrugh was lying! It was the will she was afraid of. Letty remembered Mr. DeBrugh's promise.
She did not complain, however. Her only words were, "I'll leave tomorrow."
That night she packed her things. She had no definite plans, but she hoped something would turn up.
Sleep would not come easy, so Letty lay in bed and thought of old Mr. DeBrugh. She imagined he was before her in the room, reclining on the sofa, puffing long on the meerschaum. She even saw in fancy the curling wisps of gray smoke drifting upward, upward....
It was sleep. Then, with a start, she was suddenly wide awake.
She had surely heard a scream. But no.
And then, as soft and as silent as the night wind, came the whisper: "Letty."