Events which could not be foreseen, were destined to work great changes in the circumstances of several of our characters. One of these—the death of good Mrs. Buzzell—we will pass over quickly, for it is not specially profitable to linger over such scenes of bereavement as the loss of a dear and true friend. The rich Buzzells in Oakdale had never recognized her existence except in a purely conventional way, and as they were only relatives of her husband, she felt perfectly justified in disposing of her property as she saw fit. She gave all her real estate in trust with “the firm of Dykes, Delano & Company, florists, for Minnie, daughter of Dan Forest and Susie Dykes.” “It is the best thing I can do for her,” she said, a day or two before she died, while caressing the child, who stood by the arm of “auntie’s” big chair. “It will make her independent, in a modest way; so if she chooses to enjoy the luxury of living an old maid, she can do so.” “I sha’n’t be a ole maid,” said the young lady, replying to the first intelligible words of Mrs. Buzzell. “I suppose not, dear. You’ll give some man the chance to break your heart. I only say you can if you wish,” said Mrs. Buzzell. Her furniture and personal property she gave to Susie, and to the firm, a present of one thousand dollars; and so, having set her “house in order,” as she said, leaving a kind message for Mrs. Forest, who had so long neglected her, and holding the hand of her well-beloved Dr. Forest, she dropped into her rest, apparently without a shadow of pain. Some two months after this event, Dr. Forest was roused from his warm bed by a policeman, requesting him to go quickly to the station-house to see if he could revive an unfortunate, who had just been dragged from the icy river. “Don’t wait for me,” said the doctor, coming to the head of the stairs in his night-gown. “Go back, and have her stripped and put into warm blankets. Lay her on her stomach and rub her till I come.”