"I know this document ain't legal," he explained, "but I'll have it writ out fair and square by a lawyer and sign it soon as ever I can ef you'll only give me a little slip of paper in return with a few easy words written on it."
The woman waited a moment puzzled. "I don't quite understand you, Uncle Ambrose," she returned.
"No, of course you don't, child. I just want to know ef you feel willin' to write down these here words: 'I, Elizabeth Horton, bein' fourth wife to Ambrose Thompson, do hereby relinquish all claim to him come the time when I shall meet him in heaven.' You see how 'tis, 'Lizabeth," Uncle Ambrose argued wistfully. "I wisht I'd thought to make some such plan with Peachy 'fore she died; not that I'm at all certain she'd 'a' done it," he added truthfully, "but it would 'a' eased my mind consid'ble in these last childish days ef I only had little gentle Sarah to explain things to on the other side. I don't want there should be any argufyin' or confusion just when Em'ly and me are tryin' to git off quiet to ourselves and talk things over."
Elizabeth did not answer at once, for her vision did not naturally travel beyond the confines of this world, but other women before this old maid had travelled far in this now old man's leading. So she did not feel his request to be either childish or unreasonable, only she too wanted time to think. For after a while with her eyes resting affectionately upon the old face now lying so quiet on the pillow, and at the still beautiful and once so strong hands clasped together outside the counterpane, she leaned over toward him and whispered.
"I'll give you that paper you want, Uncle Ambrose, and I'll write on it same as you wish me to, for I shall have the home, and somehow I feel it will be only right that you and Em'ly should have each other."
"Amen!" whispered Uncle Ambrose.
THE END
