The house had remained very much what it had been during Mr. Spellman's lifetime, its bright Brussels carpets and black-walnut furniture having taken on the respectability of age and use. Here, in this homely eddy of the great city, mother and daughter were seated reading after their early dinner, as was their custom. Helen, having shown no aptitude for society, after one or two seasons of playing the wall-flower at the modest parties of their acquaintance, had resolutely sought her own interests in life. One of these was a very earnest attempt to get that vague thing called an education. Just at present, this consisted of much reading of a sociological character suggested by a course of university lectures which she had followed during the winter. Mrs. Spellman, who had been turning the leaves of a magazine, finally looked up from its pages and asked, "Have you seen Jackson since the funeral?" Helen dropped her book into her lap and looked at her mother with startled eyes. "No, mother. I suppose he is very busy just now." She spoke as if she had already asked herself this question a number of times, and answered it in the same way without satisfaction. "I wonder what he means to do about the will," Mrs. Spellman continued. "It must have been a great disappointment to him. I wonder if he had any idea how it would be?" "What makes you think he is disappointed?" the girl asked literally. "Why, I saw Everett this morning, and he told me he thought his cousin might contest the will. He said Jackson was feeling very sore. It would be such a pity if there were any trouble over Powers's will!" Helen shut the book in her lap and laid it on the table very firmly. "How can Everett say such things! You know, mother, Jackson would never think of doing anything so--mean--so ungrateful!" "Some people might consider that he was justified. And it is a very large sum of money. If he had expectations of--" "Just because uncle Powers was always so kind to him!" the girl interrupted hotly. "Was that any reason why he should leave him a lot of his money?" "My dear, most people would think it was a sufficient reason for leaving him more than he did." "Then most people are very self-interested! Everett Wheeler might expect it. But Jackson has something better in life to do than worry over not getting his uncle's money." Mrs. Spellman, who had known Jackson since he was a child, smiled wisely, but made no reply. "What good would the money be to him? Why should he want more than he has,--the chance to do splendid things, to work for something better than money? That's the worst about men like Everett,--they think of nothing but money, money, from morning to night. He doesn't believe that a man can care for any other thing." "Poor Everett!" her mother remarked with quiet irony. "He isn't thinking of contesting the will, however." "Nor is Jackson, I am sure!" the girl answered positively.