While Fanny was studying the produce market in the afternoon newspaper, Nan went upstairs to get the will. She had set herself a disagreeable task, but she did not falter in her determination to go through with it. She glanced through the will again, rehearsed the story as she meant to tell it, and returned to the living-room, where Fanny began reading the day’s quotations from the sheet before her.
“Nan, if eggs go much higher, we’ll be rich by spring. I’m going to double the poultry department next summer. They told me I couldn’t make it pay, and now it’s the best thing I’ve got!”
Nan liked these quiet evenings. Sometimes the young women from the farmhouse came in for an hour of music, and Nan occasionally gave some of her recitations, much to their delight. At other times Fanny retired to her den to write letters or post her books, leaving Nan to her own devices.
To-night Fanny produced some sewing and bade Nan tell her of her day’s experiences.
“I hope the long winter evenings out here are not going to bore you, Nancy,” she remarked, noting the serious look on Nan’s face. “Gracious! What’s that you have there? It has an official look; we’re not being sued, are we?”
“There’s something I have to tell you, Fanny. It’s not a pleasant subject, and you’ll see in a moment how hard it is for me to tell you. And you’ll listen, won’t you; you’ll let me tell you everything I have to say about it?”
“Of course, Nancy!” said Fanny as Nan knelt beside her. “I should be sorry if you couldn’t come to me with anything! I hope nothing disagreeable has happened.”
“Well, it isn’t pleasant. And to think I have to spoil one of our evenings by talking of it! We’ve had such good times here. It may be that you won’t let me stay any longer after you know. I should hate that; but I should understand it.”
She touched with a light caress a fold of Mrs. Copeland’s gown, then withdrew her hand quickly, and began fingering the will nervously.
“The sooner we get through with it the better, Nancy,” said Fanny kindly.