Samuel Wales left a will bequeathing every thing to his widow; that was solemnly read in the fore-room one afternoon; then the inventory had to be taken. That on account of the amount of property was quite an undertaking; but it was carried out with the greatest formality and precision. For several days, Mr. Aaron Whitcomb, and Mr. Silas White, were stalking majestically about the premises, with note-books and pens. Aaron Whitcomb was a grave portly old man, with a large head of white hair. Silas White was little and wiry and fussy. He monopolized the greater part of the business, although he was not half as well fitted for it as his companion. They pried into everything with religious exactitude. Mrs. Polly watched them with beseeming awe and deference, but it was a great trial to her, and she grew very nervous over it. It seemed dreadful to have all her husband's little personal effects, down to his neck-band and mittens, handled over, and their worth in shillings and pence calculated. She had a price fixed on them already in higher currency. Ann found her crying one afternoon sitting on the kitchen settle, with her apron over her head. When she saw the little girl's pitying look, she poured out her trouble to her. "They've just been valuing _his_ mittens and gloves," said she, sobbing, "at two-and-sixpence. I shall be thankful, when they are through." "Are there any more of _his_ things?" asked Ann, her black eyes flashing, with the tears in them. "I think they've seen about all. There's his blue jacket he used to milk in, a-hanging behind the shed-door--I guess they haven't valued that yet." "I think it's a shame!" quoth Ann. "I don't believe there's any need of so much law." "Hush, child! You mustn't set yourself up against the judgment of your elders. Such things have to be done." Ann said no more, but the indignant sparkle did not fade out of her eyes at all. She watched her opportunity, and took down Mr. Wales' old blue jacket from its peg behind the shed-door, ran with it up stairs and hid it in her own room behind the bed. "There," said she, "Mrs. Wales sha'n't cry over _that!_" That night, at tea time, the work of taking the inventory was complete. Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. White walked away with their long lists, satisfied that they had done their duty according to the law. Every article of Samuel Wales' property, from a warming pan to a chest of drawers, was set down, with the sole exception of that old blue jacket which Ann had hidden. She felt complacent over it at first; then she begun to be uneasy. "Nabby," said she confidentially to the old servant woman, when they were washing the pewter plates together after supper, "what would they do, if anybody shouldn't let them set down all the things--if they hid some of 'em away, I mean?" "They'd make a dretful time on't," said Nabby, impressively. She was a large, stern-looking old woman. "They air dretful perticklar 'bout these things. They hev to be."