“He could telegraph to Miss Arethusa,” Lucinda suggested. The suggestion bespoke the superior moral quality of Lucinda’s make-up—her own feeling toward Arethusa being considered. “I don’t want her,” said Aunt Mary with a positiveness that was final. “I don’t want her. My heavens, Lucinda, ain’t we just had enough of her? Anyhow, if you ain’t, I have. I don’t want her, nor no livin’ soul except my trunk; an’ I want that just as quick as Joshua can haul it down out of the attic.” “You ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ travelin’!” the maid cried in consternation; “you can’t never be thinkin’ of _that?_” “No,” said her mistress with fine irony; “I want the trunk to make a pie out of, probably.” Lucinda was speechless. “Lucinda,” her mistress said, after a few seconds had faded away unimproved, “seems to me I mentioned wantin’ Joshua to get down a trunk—seems to me I did.” The maid turned and left the room. She felt more or less dazed. Nothing so startling as Aunt Mary’s wanting a trunk had happened in years. Disinheriting Jack was not in it by comparison. She went slowly away to find Joshua and found him in the farther end of the rear woodhouse—John Watkins, like several of his ilk, having marked each forward step in the world by a back extension of his house. Joshua was chopping wood; his ax was high in the air. He also was calm and unsuspecting. “She’s goin’ to the city all alone!” Lucinda’s voice suddenly proclaimed behind him. The ax fell. “Who says so?” its handler demanded, facing about in surprise. “She says so.” Joshua picked up the ax and poised it afresh. He was himself again. “She’ll go then,” he said calmly. Lucinda marched around in front of him, and planted herself firmly among the chips. “Joshua Whittlesey!” “We can’t help it,” said Joshua stolidly. “We’re here to mind her. If she wants to go to New York, or to change her will, all we’ve got to do is to be simple witnesses.” “She don’t want Miss Arethusa telegraphed,” said Lucinda. “I don’t blame her,” said Joshua; “if I was her and if I was goin’ to New York I wouldn’t want no one telegraphed.” “She wants her trunk out of the attic.” “Then she’ll get her trunk out of the attic. When does she want it?” “She wants it now.” [Illustration: “She’s goin’ to the city all alone!’ Lucinda’s voice suddenly proclaimed behind him.”] “Then she’ll get it now,” said Joshua. From the general trend of this and other remarks of Joshua the reader will readily divine why he had been in Aunt Mary’s employ for thirty years, and had always been characterized by her as “a most sensible man,” and anyone who had seen the alacrity with which the trunk was brought and the respectful attention with which Aunt Mary’s further commands were received would have been forced to coincide in her opinion.