"There wasn't any will, so it all goes to Uncle Jacob," said Mr. Bowers. "I expected to hear she had left it to Rhoda. It is odd that there should have been no will. She was always so particular about business. Uncle Jacob says he shall send Rhoda all her clothes. I am glad of that." "I don't see why he should. Rhoda has enough of her own. But they won't amount to much, Aunt Hannah always dressed so plainly." "She was always giving away. Uncle Jacob says she has sent over four hundred dollars to foreign missions, besides all she has done at home. Well, I hope it will all turn out for the best, that's all." There was a great wonderment in the little village when it came to be known that Aunt Hannah had died without a will. Two or three people had known of her making one some years before, and did not scruple to hint that Uncle Jacob had destroyed it to get possession of the place, but nobody could prove anything. Of course Keziah told everybody about Rhoda, and how her aunt had meant to take her home. Mr. and Mrs. Bowers found themselves in anything but an enviable position, and at last Mr. Bowers sold out his interest in the mills and went to Hobarttown to live, so that Rhoda's last tie to Boonville was cut off. CHAPTER VIII. _A NEW HOME._ THE news of Aunt Hannah's death was a dreadful shock to Rhoda. She had looked to her return with a vague but strong hope that somehow the old lady would set matters right. She had felt so sure of seeing her, especially since she had made up her mind to write, and her heart had throbbed faster every time the door-bell rung. Now it was all over. Aunt Hannah was gone, and she felt herself indeed alone in the world. "After all, if it was to be so, I am glad she died instead of changing like the others," said she to Miss Brown. "If mother had died when baby was born, I should not have been half so sorry about her as I am now." "Ah, my dear, there are few people who might not say that of some one," said Miss Brown, sighing. "But, Rhoda, would there have been nothing to regret then?" "Not on her side," answered Rhoda. "I soon found out that mother was not the wisest woman that ever lived, but she was always kind to me. I don't believe any child ever was happier or better taken care of than I was for those eight years." "Then you have at least that much for which to thank Mrs. Bowers," remarked Miss Brown, "since she gave you eight years of happiness." "Yes, I suppose so," said Rhoda, thoughtfully; "and yet, somehow, this last business seems to have blotted out all the rest. I could find it in my heart to wish they had let me alone." "I understand you," said her friend; "but, Rhoda, you must try to forgive as you would be forgiven." "Indeed, I do, Miss Brown," said Rhoda, earnestly. "You don't know how much I pray for a forgiving spirit, and sometimes I think I have it, but then again the tide comes up and sweeps it all away."