Not for worlds would Mr. Agnew have so arranged his affairs had it not been that in his half-delirious state he was subject to the will of another. He had always intended to settle a competence upon Mrs. Lyman—his mother-in-law. He had expected to live years yet. Who does not? Mrs. Agnew lost no time. As soon as the funeral services were over she questioned Mrs. Lyman as to her plans for the future. The poor old lady felt bewildered at having to make any plans, so lovingly had she been cared for all her life. She had scarcely realized as yet that her one protector was gone; above all, that he had made no provision for her. Homeless and penniless and nearly seventy years of age, where should she go? What should she do? Where would a helpless being go in straits but to the One who plans and governs our lives? And thither she went. She well knew the road. Old friends gathered about her with kindly offers of aid, but she believed she saw her path plainly, and declined their many invitations to tarry with them for a time. She had a little money of her own, enough to insure her entrance into the "Home for Aged Women," and there she determined to go. Mrs. Lyman had occasionally driven with her daughter through the grounds of the "Home." She had admired the stately edifice, and remarked that it was a grand charity; she had also contributed to it; but it had not entered her mind that she was ever to become one of its inmates. She thought of it that afternoon as the carriage which conveyed her there wound slowly up the avenue. The trials of the past few days had been peculiarly sharp. She had gone out from the dear home, with its precious memories, forever. She could not, without contention, claim even her daughter's gifts to herself; contend she would not, so she left them: so many things that almost had a tongue to speak of other days. There were no tears in her eyes, and the old face was placid as she leaned back and looked up at rows and rows of windows. She even repeated to herself some favorite lines: "That's best which God sends. 'Twas his will; it is mine."