It was true that on that morning Mrs. Cliff had been standing in her front yard looking as her best friends would not have liked her to look. There was nothing physically the matter with her, but she was dissatisfied and somewhat disturbed in her mind. Mr. Burke was so busy nowadays that when he stopped in to see her it was only for a few minutes, and Willy Croup had developed a great facility in discovering things which ought to be attended to in various parts of the town, and of going to attend to them with Andrew Marks to drive her.

Not only did Mrs. Cliff feel that she was left more to herself than she liked, but she had the novel experience of not being able to find interesting occupation. She was was glad to have servants who could perform all the household duties, and could have done more if they had had a chance. Still, it was unpleasant to feel that she herself could do so little to fill up her unoccupied moments. So she put on a shawl and went into her front yard, simply to walk about and get a little of the fresh air. But when she went out of the door, she stood still contemplating the front fence.

Here was a fence which had been an eyesore to her for two or three years! She believed she had money enough to fence in the whole State, and yet those shabby palings and posts must offend her eye every time she came out of her door! The flowers were nearly all dead now, and she would have had a new fence immediately, but Mr. Burke had dissuaded her, saying that when the new dining-room was brought over from the corner lot there would have to be a fence around the whole premises, and it would be better to have it all done at once.

"There are so many things which I can afford just as well as not," she said to herself, "and which I cannot do!" And it was the unmistakable doleful expression upon her countenance, as she thought this, which was the foundation of Miss Shott's remarks to her neighbors on the subject of Mrs. Cliff's probable early demise.

Miss Shott was passing on the other side of the street, and she was walking rapidly, but she could see more out of the corner of her eye than most people could see when they were looking straight before them at the same things.

Suddenly Mrs. Cliff determined that she must do something. She felt blue,—she wanted to talk to somebody. And, feeling thus, she naturally went into the house, put on her bonnet and her wrap, and walked down to see Miss Cushing. There was not anything in particular that she wanted to see her about, but there was work going on and she might talk about it; or, it might happen that she would be inclined to give some orders. She was always glad to do anything she could to help that hard-working and kind-hearted neighbor!

When Mrs. Cliff entered the parlor of Miss Cushing, five women each gave a sudden start. The dressmaker was so thrown off her balance that she dropped her sewing on the floor, and rising, went forward to shake her visitor by the hand, a thing she was not in the habit of doing to anybody, because, as is well known to all the world, a person who is sewing for a livelihood cannot get up to shake hands with the friends and acquaintances who may happen in upon her. At this the other ladies rose and shook hands, and it might have been supposed that the new-comer had just returned from a long absence. Then Miss Cushing gave Mrs. Cliff a chair, and they all sat down again.

Mrs. Cliff looked about her with a smile. The sight of these old friends cheered her. All her blues were beginning to fade, as that color always fades in any kind of sunshine.

"I'm glad to see so many of you together," she said. "It almost seems as if you were having some sort of meeting. What is it about,—can't I join in?"

At this there was a momentary silence which threatened to become very embarrassing if it continued a few seconds more, and Miss Cushing was on the point of telling the greatest lie of her career, trusting that the other heirs would stand by her and support her in whatever statements she made, feeling as they must the absolute necessity of saying something instantly. But Miss Inchman spoke before any one else had a chance to do so.

"You're right, Mrs. Cliff," said she, "we are considering something! We didn't come here on purpose to talk about it, but we happened in together, and so we thought we would talk it over. And we all came to the conclusion that it was something which ought to be mentioned to you, and I was asked to speak to you about it."

Four simultaneous gasps were now heard in that little parlor, and four chills ran down the backs of four self-constituted heirs.

"I must say, Susan," remarked Mrs. Cliff, with a good-humored smile, "if you want me to do anything, there's no need of being so wonderfully formal about it! If any one of you, or all of you together, for that matter, have anything to say to me, all you had to do was to come and say it."

"They didn't seem to think that way," said Miss Inchman. "They all thought that what was to be said would come better from me because I'd known you so long, and we had grown up together."

"It must be something out of the common," said Mrs. Cliff. "What in the world can it be? If you are to speak, Susan, speak out at once! Let's have it!"

"That's just what I'm going to do," said Miss Inchman.

If Mrs. Cliff had looked around at the four heirs who were sitting upright in their chairs, gazing in horror at Miss Inchman, she would have been startled, and, perhaps, frightened. But she did not see them. She was so much interested in what her old friend Susan was saying, that she gave to her her whole attention.

But now that their appointed spokeswoman had announced her intention of immediately declaring the object of the meeting, each one of them felt that this was no place for her! But, notwithstanding this feeling, not one of them moved to go. Miss Cushing, of course, had no excuse for leaving, for this was her own house; and although the others might have pleaded errands, a power stronger than their disposition to fly—stronger even than their fears of what Mrs. Cliff might say to them when she knew all—kept them in their seats. The spell of self-interest was upon them and held them fast. Whatever was said and whatever was done they must be there! At this supreme moment they could not leave the room. They nerved themselves, they breathed hard, and listened!

"You see, Sarah," said Miss Inchman, "we must all die!"

"That's no new discovery," answered Mrs. Cliff, and the remark seemed to her so odd that she looked around at the rest of the company to see how they took it; and she was thereupon impressed with the idea that some of them had not thought of this great truth of late, and that its sudden announcement had thrown them into a shocked solemnity.

But the soul of Miss Cushing was more than shocked,—it was filled with fury! If there had been in that room at that instant a loaded gun pointed towards Miss Inchman, Miss Cushing would have pulled the trigger. This would have been wicked, she well knew, and contrary to her every principle, but never before had she been confronted by such treachery!

"Well," continued Miss Inchman, "as we must die, we ought to make ourselves ready for it in every way that we can. And we've been thinking—"

At this moment the endurance of Mrs. Ferguson gave way. The pace and the strain were too great for her. Each of the others had herself to think for, but she had not only herself, but two daughters. She gave a groan, her head fell back, her eyes closed, and with a considerable thump she slipped from her chair to the floor. Instantly every one screamed and sprang towards her.

"What in the world is the matter with her?" cried Mrs. Cliff, as she assisted the others to raise the head of the fainting woman and to loosen her dress.

"Oh, I suppose it's the thought of her late husband!" promptly replied Miss Inchman, who felt that it devolved on her to say something, and that quickly. Mrs. Cliff looked up in amazement.

"And what has Mr. Ferguson to do with anything?" she asked.

"Oh, it's the new cemetery I was going to talk to you about," said Miss Inchman. "It has been spoken of a good deal since you went away, and we all thought that if you'd agree to go into it—"

"Go into it!" cried Mrs. Cliff, in horror.

"I mean, join with the people who are in favor of it," said Miss Inchman. "I haven't time to explain,—she's coming to now, if you'll all let her alone! All I've time to say is, that those who had husbands in the old graveyard and might perhaps be inclined to move them and put up monuments, had the right to be first spoken to. Although, of course, it's a subject which everybody doesn't care to speak about, and as for Mrs. Ferguson, it's no wonder, knowing her as we do, that she went off in this way when she knew what I was going to say, although, in fact, I wasn't in the least thinking of Mr. Ferguson!"

The speaker had barely time to finish before the unfortunate lady who had fainted, opened her eyes, looked about her, and asked where she was. And now that she had revived, no further reference could be made to the unfortunate subject which had caused her to swoon.

"I don't see," said Mrs. Cliff, as she stood outside with Miss Inchman, a few minutes later, "why Mr. Ferguson's removal—I'm sure it isn't necessary to make it if she doesn't want to—should trouble Mrs. Ferguson any more than the thought of Mr. Cliff's removal troubles me. I'm perfectly willing to do what I can for the new cemetery, and nobody need think I'm such a nervous hysterical person that I'm in danger of popping over if the subject is mentioned to me. So when you all are ready to have another meeting, I hope you will let me know!"

When Mrs. Ferguson felt herself well enough to sit up and take a glass of water, with something stimulating in it, she was informed of the nature of the statements which had been finally made to Mrs. Cliff.

"You know, of course," added Miss Cushing, still pale from unappeased rage, "that that Susan Inchman began as she did, just to spite us!"

"It's just like her!" said Mrs. Archibald. "But I never could have believed that such a dried codfish of a woman could have so much intellect!"