"Your brother's downstairs. He says he would like to see you."
"My brother!" repeated her mistress, not looking overpleased.
"Yes, he is down in the parlor."
"Very well, I will go down and see him."
The ill-dressed stranger was stretched out in a rocking-chair, in an attitude more comfortable than graceful. He was gazing about the room, and noting with much complacency the evidences of comfort and luxury which the handsome furniture exhibited. It was thus that Mrs. Oakley found him.
"How do you do, brother Ephraim?" she said, coldly, advancing, and just giving him the tips of her fingers.
"I'm pretty well," he answered. "So the old gentleman's dead, hey?"
"If you mean my husband," she answered, still with coldness, "you are right."
"It's all right about the property, hey? How much is left to you?"