"I was brought up," said Amzi, "to believe in heaven. Ever hear of the place?" "I have," said Phil; "and no thanks to you." He ignored the fling as unworthy of his attention, and continued soberly,-- "I never expected, in all the years I've been attending Center Church, that I'd ever see anybody on earth that had a pass right through the pearly gates; but I guess I know one woman that's got a ticket, with stop-over privileges, and a seat in the observation car--all stamped and good for any date. That woman, Phil, is your mother. That idea's been in my mind a good deal lately and I thought I'd mention it." Phil's face assumed an unwonted gravity. Her mother's departure, in all the circumstances of her going, had still its poignancy. Phil had been brave, but it had cut deep. She did not reply to her uncle's remark, but waited for him to go on. He drew out a cigar, satisfied himself that it was in good condition, and returned it to his pocket. "The day she left, your mother wrote out three checks for five thousand bucks--one for each of your aunts. She told me not to turn them over until she had landed on the other side. Thunder! After everything they had done to her and tried to do to her, she did _that_!" He waited characteristically for her to deny the facts he had stated. A look of great tenderness came into Phil's face. "Said she didn't want any unkind feelings. Said it was all right the way they acted. _Right!_" he repeated contemptuously. "I've known men--and women--some; but I can't beat that! And the day the cable came saying she'd got to Cherbourg, I called 'em down in a bunch and gave 'em the checks. You've noticed that your Uncle Lawrence has turned his theater into a moving-picture shop with a yellow-haired girl selling tickets at the gate; and your Uncle Paul has given notice that he's going to start the brickyard again. He's got contracts to keep him going for six months. And your Uncle Waterman's started in to pay a few of his debts on the installment plan. That's all your mother's money." A wan smile flitted across Phil's face. "What you laughing at?" Amzi demanded. "Nothing," said Phil; "only I seem to remember that I once said something to Lawr_i_nce about cutting out the drammer and putting on the reel. And Paul and I had some talk once about bricks--" she ended meditatively. "Your ideas, both of 'em, I bet!" declared Amzi furiously. "I thought those fellows never had that much sense all by themselves." "Oh, nothing like that!" replied Phil. "I just thought I ought to tell you what your mother did. Lois didn't say for me not to tell you. I guess she thought I most likely would." "I'm glad you did, Amy. Everything I know about mamma makes me love her that much more." Amzi turned to push the regulator on the fan, and when it had ceased humming he rested his arms on the table and said:-- "Seems Nan's not going to marry your father, after all?" "No, that's all over," she answered indifferently.