There were no surprises to the inner circle of the family when the will came to be read. Subject to the widow’s third, the farm was devised in equal parts to the two brothers, but the major share of the other property went to Seth. The partner from New York remained at the homestead long enough to arrange the details by which the widow’s portion was bought by the brothers, and her leave-taking accomplished. John Fairchild lives in high contentment on the ancestral farm. He grows stout now, in the accustomed Fairchild fashion, and though his light ruddy face and brown beard are hostile to the suggestion, people profess to see the family likeness in him as he grows older. Aunt Sabrina especially cherishes this fancy with fondness. She has come to regard this nephew, whom once she so deeply disliked, with some affection and vast esteem, and she devotes her hours to dreaming of the great things he may accomplish as the Fairchild of Dearborn--what time she is not joining Alvira in prayer that he may not be moved to marry a city woman. Thus far there are no indications that he thinks of marrying any one, and his ambitions seem to take no higher form than the re-invigoration of the _Banner of Liberty_, which he drives over to Thessaly three times a week to superintend, and which, they say, promises soon to blossom into a daily. ***** One closing scene we may glance at--a pretty room, with modern furniture, and wide, flower-clad windows looking upon one of the best of Tecum-seh’s residential streets. Annie, grown brighter-faced and yet no older in looks, despite the nearly four years of married life which have gone by, stands at the window with a baby in her arms, and laughs as she tosses the infant forward toward the panes, in greeting to the paternal parent, who is coming up the front steps. The wife is in gay spirits, not only because the head of the house has come home to dinner instead of stopping at the Club, but for another reason, compared with which all dinners were trivial. “O Seth, her first tooth has come through!” “That so? It’s about time, I should-think.” His reception of the great tidings is so calm, not to say indifferent, that the beaming wife looks at him in mock surprise. Seth has not aged specially either, but he wears this evening an unwontedly serious expression of face, and gets into his dressing-gown and slippers with an almost moody air. Baby is brought up in frowning, blinking proximity to her sire and made by proxy to demand an explanation of this untoward gloom, on an occasion which ought to be given over to rejoicing. “Oh, I’m tired,” Seth answers; “and then--then I have a letter which puzzles and annoys me a little.” “Is it anything that I know about?” Annie has seated herself beside him now, and looks sweet inquiry.