The next morning I went to the store where I had bought the hat and asked the woman to take it back. She was none too well pleased. But, as she had known me forever, she insisted upon knowing the reason, and when I told her the kind-hearted creature said: "Why, you poor thing, you keep that hat, and I'll take the price of the taxi off the bill. It will be good business, anyhow, for when that hat is seen on you there will be a run on them." You may think less of me, but I was so glad to keep it! Then I went to see Dr. Webster. He listened to my story and then said: "Your husband is as sound as a dollar. I went all over him when he had that touch of bronchitis in January. But he has exhausted his nervous energy and must have a rest." "But," I said, "we cannot afford to go away." He answered gruffly: "You can't afford to keep on." We got through Easter somehow, and John did his part better than I supposed would be possible. But when one of those "gushy" females, who are found in every church, said to me: "How wonderful Mr. Dobson was to-day! I don't see how he does it! However, it cannot be a strain on him because he speaks so easily. If he had to _prepare_ his sermons I don't suppose he could do it, with all the parish work he has to do!" That woman is called by some people "The salt of the earth." She may be, but it is salt in lumps, and I don't like it that way! John slept the clock round on Easter night and it was nearly noon when he came down for a cup of coffee. There were not many letters, fortunately, but I had noticed one with the name of a well-known firm of lawyers on the envelope, and rather wondered what they could have to say. When John had read it he exclaimed: "Well, I'll be jiggered!" "What is it?" I asked. "Why, Aunt Susan is dead." "Is that the aunt who lived in California?" "Yes, she went out there nearly twenty years ago, and I do not suppose I have thought of her twice since." "Well, what has happened?" "Why, she has left me some money." "Oh, John!" I cried, thinking of what Dr. Webster had said. "It can't be true." "I guess it is," he replied. "Weeks & Burke are pretty responsible people, and they write: 'By the will of the late Miss Susan B. Melchor,' etc."