"Uncle Sandy, it is so good to have you back again, and Angus and I are so truly glad to welcome my dear mother's brother to our home, that we think it hard to have to touch on anything the least gloomy to-night. Just a word or two will be sufficient, and then we must drop the subject for ever."
Uncle Sandy raised his wrinkled old face.
"Ah," he said. "If there's anything unpleasant, have it cut by all means—out and over—that's my own motto."
"We spoke the other night," continued Charlotte, "about my dear mother. I told you that she was poor—that she had to do with poverty, from the hour of my father's death until the end of her own life. It is all over for her now, she is at rest. If plenty of money could be found for her she would not need it. When I told you the story you expressed a doubt that all was not right; you said it was absolutely impossible that my father could have left my mother nothing; you said that either the will was tampered with or not acted on. Well, Uncle Sandy, I agree with you. I had long felt that something was not right."
"Ay, ay, my girl; I said before, you had a brain in your head and a head on your shoulders. Trust Uncle Sandy not to know a clever woman when he sees her."
"Well, uncle, I can say all the rest in a very few words. You said you could investigate the matter; that you could discover whether any foul play had been committed. I asked you not to do so until I saw you again; I now ask you not to do so at all; to let the whole matter rest always. In this I have my husband's sanction and wish."
"Yes, Lottie has my full approval in this matter," said Mr. Home, coming forward and laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We don't want money, we would rather let the matter rest."
"You don't want money!" said Uncle Sandy, gazing hard from the ethereal worn-looking man, to the woman, tall and thin, in her rusty dress, with every mark of poverty showing in thin cheek, in careworn eyes, in labor-stained hands. "You don't want money!" he repeated. "Niece Charlotte, I retract what I said of you—I thought you were not quite a fool. As to you, Home, I don't pretend to understand you. You don't want money?"
Mr. Home smiled. Charlotte bent down and kissed her old uncle's brow.
"Nevertheless, you will do what we wish, even though you don't understand," she said.