"Neither," said Mrs. Hamilton. "What I have to say concerns your father."
"My father!" interrupted Lenora; "my own father! Oh, is he living?"
"No, I hope not," was the answer; "it is Mr. Hamilton whom I mean."
Instantly Lenora's tone changed, and she replied, "If you please you need not call that putty-headed man my father. He acts too much like a whipped spaniel to suit me, and I really think Carrie ought to be respected for knowing what little she does, while I wonder where Walter, Mag, and Willie got their good sense. But what is it? What have you made Mr. Hamilton do?—something ridiculous, of course."
"I've made him make his will," was the answer; while Lenora continued:
"Well, what then? What good will that do me?"
"It may do you a great deal of good," said Mrs. Hamilton; "that is, if Walter likes the homestead as I think he does. But I tell you, it was hard work, and I didn't know, one while, but I should have to give it up. However, I succeeded, and he has willed the homestead to Walter, provided he marries you. If not, Walter has nothing, and the homestead comes to me and my heirs forever!"
"Heartless old fool!" exclaimed Lenora, while Carrie, too, groaned in sympathy. "And do you suppose he intends to let it go so! Of course not; he'll make another when you don't know it"
"I'll watch him too closely for that," said Mrs. Hamilton and after a moment Lenora asked:
"What made you so anxious for a will? Have you received warning of his sudden demise?"