The whisper was not low, but then Mrs. Wroat was supposed to be “as deaf as a post,” and of course she could not hear a sound so faint and indistinct. Mr. and Mrs. Blight had frequently vented their opinions much more loudly before her. But there was an odd snap in her eyes on this occasion, as they thus whispered to each other, and again Mrs. Blight fancied she heard a malicious chuckle, but the old lady fell to coughing in a frightful manner, and the lawyer’s wife had no time for fancies, believing the old lady likely to die on the spot. When the paroxysm was over, and Mrs. Wroat began to breathe freely, Mrs. Blight said, not without nervousness: “You have a terrible cold, Aunt Wroat. Don’t you do anything for it?” “It’s a cold that’ll last me my days,” said Mrs. Wroat. “It’s consumption.” “Do you employ a doctor for it?” asked the lawyer. “Death is the best doctor,” answered the old lady, with grim facetiousness. “He’ll cure it for nothing. This is my last visit to you, Charles. I sha’n’t last much longer.” “Oh, I hope you will live twenty years yet, and visit us every year!” cried Mrs. Blight. “Dear Aunt Wroat, we love to have you with us.” “Yes, I know it,” said Mrs. Wroat, with another odd snap in her witch-like eyes. “I know it, my dear. It’s time to settle my affairs. I am thinking of making my will soon.” The Blights tried to look unconcerned, but failed. Their curiosity and anxiety displayed themselves in their features. “Shall you leave your money to a charity, dear Aunt Wroat?” inquired Mrs. Blight caressingly. “No, no! I shall leave it to--But don’t ask me. You’ll know in good time.” The lawyer looked significantly at his wife. “She means to leave it to us!” he whispered. “The old nuisance will pay us for our trouble at last.” It was singular that just then another fit of coughing attacked the old lady. When it was over, she said sharply: “I’ll go to my room. I want to be composed, or I sha’n’t sleep a wink to-night. We’ll visit to-morrow, but I am tired after my journey. I should like some one to play a little music for me in my room, but I don’t want any sentimental songs from your girls, Laura.” “The governess will sing and play for you, dear Aunt Wroat,” said Mrs. Blight. “She has orders to obey you during your visit, and you can command her at any or all hours.” “Then send her to me in half an hour. Charles, you can carry me up stairs.” The lawyer obeyed the intimation, carrying the old lady up to her own room and depositing her in her armchair. The maid was in attendance, and the lawyer and his wife bade their guest an affecting good-night, and retreated to the drawing-room to speculate upon their prospects and the state of Mrs. Wroat’s health. “Shut the door, Peters,” said the old lady. “And you might open the windows and air the room after those people’s presence.” Peters obeyed. She was wont to humor all the whims of her mistress. “Did you find them the same as usual, ma’am?” she asked.