"I invited you to come here, Squire Tisdale," said Mrs. Preston, "to speak about my affairs. Of course, it is very trying to me to think of business so soon after the death of my dear husband"—here she pressed her handkerchief to her tearless eyes—"but I feel it to be my duty to myself and my boy."
"Of course," said the squire, soothingly. "We can't give way to our feelings, however much we want to."
"That is my feeling," said Mrs. Preston, whose manner was wonderfully cool and collected, considering the grief which she desired to have it thought she experienced for her husband.
"Did Colonel Preston leave a will?" asked the squire.
"I don't think he did. He never mentioned making one to me. Did you ever hear of his making any?"
"I can't say that I ever did. I suppose it will be best to search."
"Won't it be more proper for you to make the search, Squire Tisdale?" said the widow. "I am an interested party."
"Suppose we search together. You can tell me where your husband kept his private papers."
"Certainly. He kept them in his desk. I locked it as soon as he died; but here is the key. If there is a will, it is probably there."
"Very probably. We shall soon ascertain, then."