The squire had thought that he would go bravely to Grandmother Gaumer and put his arm round her and break to her gently the terrible news. He did not realize that his lips and hands grew each moment more tremulous and his cheeks more ashen. He saw his sister-in-law sitting beside her lovely garden in security and peace, and his heart failed him. Katy had risen to her feet, and she stood still and regarded him with astonishment. She had forgotten for the instant that he was awaiting news of Governor Gaumer's death. Now she remembered it and was disturbed to the bottom of her soul by the squire's evident grief. Grief was new to Katy. Grandmother Gaumer laid down her needle and thread. "Ach, the governor is gone, then!" said she. "Did a letter come?" "Yes," answered the squire. "A message came. He died in the night." Tears came into Grandmother Gaumer's eyes. "Where is William? I thought he was by you." The squire sat down in the chair beside Grandmother Gaumer and took her hand. The heap of white stuff slid off her lap to the floor of the porch and lay there unheeded until hours later when Bevy gathered it up, weeping, and laid it away. "I have bad news for you," said the squire. "Well," said Grandmother Gaumer, bravely. "When William heard that Daniel was gone, he dropped to the floor like one shot." "William!" cried Grandmother Gaumer. "Yes," answered the squire. "He suffered no pain. The doctor said he knew nothing of it." "Knew nothing of it!" repeated Grandmother Gaumer. "You mean that he fell _dead_?" "Yes." "Where is he?" asked Grandmother Gaumer in a quieter tone. "In my office. They will bring him home." "Then we will make a place ready for him. Come, Katy." Katy followed into the kitchen. Grandmother Gaumer stood looking about her and frowning, as though she were finding it difficult to decide what should be done. Katy thought of John Hartman and of his strange attitude and his staring eyes. Would Grandfather Gaumer look like that? Katy was about to throw herself into the arms which had thus far opened to all her griefs. "Ach, gran'mom!" she began, weeping. Then, slowly, Grandmother Gaumer turned her head and looked at Katy. Her eyes were intolerable to Katy. "What shall I do?" she asked. "I am old. I cannot think. We have lived together fifty years. I cannot remember where my things are. There are things put away in the bureaus all ready for such a time. What shall I do, Katy?" With a gasp Katy drove back the tears from her smarting eyelids. Katy was confused, bewildered; she still lacked the education with which she expected to meet the problems of life. But Katy, whose forte was managing, did not fail here.