A funeral in a country village is a public occasion. Friends and neighbors are expected to be present without invitation. Among those who assembled at the house were Mrs. Burke and Andy. They felt truly sorry for the death of Colonel Preston, who had been a friend to both. Mrs. Preston saw them enter, and, notwithstanding the solemnity of the occasion, the thought intruded: "They're after the legacy, but they will be disappointed. I've taken good care of that." Godfrey saw them, also, and his thought was a characteristic one: "What business has that Irish boy at my father's funeral? He ought to know better than to poke himself in where he is not wanted." Even Godfrey, however, had the decency to let this thought remain unspoken. The services proceeded, and among those who followed on foot in the funeral procession were Andy and his mother. It never occurred to them that they were intruding. They wanted to show respect for the memory of one who had been a friend to them. On the day after the funeral Squire Tisdale called at the house, invited by Mrs. Preston. The squire had a smattering of law, and often acted as executor in settling estates. "I invited you to come here, Squire Tisdale," said Mrs. Preston, "to speak about my affairs. Of course, it is very trying to me to think of business so soon after the death of my dear husband"--here she pressed her handkerchief to her tearless eyes--"but I feel it to be my duty to myself and my boy." "Of course," said the squire, soothingly. "We can't give way to our feelings, however much we want to." "That is my feeling," said Mrs. Preston, whose manner was wonderfully cool and collected, considering the grief which she desired to have it thought she experienced for her husband. "Did Colonel Preston leave a will?" asked the squire. "I don't think he did. He never mentioned making one to me. Did you ever hear of his making any?" "I can't say that I ever did. I suppose it will be best to search." "Won't it be more proper for you to make the search, Squire Tisdale?" said the widow. "I am an interested party." "Suppose we search together. You can tell me where your husband kept his private papers." "Certainly. He kept them in his desk. I locked it as soon as he died; but here is the key. If there is a will, it is probably there." "Very probably. We shall soon ascertain, then." Squire Tisdale took the key, and Mrs. Preston led the way to her late husband's desk. A momentary fear seized her. "What if there was an earlier will, or two copies of the last?" she thought. "I ought to have made sure by looking over the other papers." But it was too late now. Besides, it seemed very improbable that there should be another will. Had there been an earlier one, it would, doubtless, have been destroyed on the drafting of the one she had found. She reassured herself, therefore, and awaited with tranquillity the result of the search.