"'My dear Miss Merryvale,'" Miss Witherspoon began again, "'I am inclosing a letter to your maid, Hertha Williams, retailing to her an extraordinary piece of news. George Ogilvie, whom you will remember, I am sure, has died and in his will he leaves a small legacy to a granddaughter, Hertha Williams, the illegitimate child of his daughter Lillias who died two days after its birth. The birth was successfully concealed by placing the infant with a colored family. Evidently Ogilvie, at the last, felt unable to keep the secret for he leaves an account of the extraordinary proceeding, recognizes his granddaughter, and asks that she take the family name. It is likely to be a great shock to the young woman and I am inclosing the firm's letter to your care, knowing that you will understand in your great kindness how best to break the news. "'Believe me, Madam, with esteem, "'Your obedient servant, "'BOSTWICK UNTHANK.'" As Miss Witherspoon put down the letter and looked at her hostess's shaking head she wondered whether the lawyer had made a careful choice in his method of relating the story to Hertha; and she resolved to take a part herself, if advisable, in the breaking of the news. While extraordinary, it was tidings that a colored girl might easily bear. Two legacies, one of money, one of race, were wonderful gifts. "Where is Hertha?" she asked. "Ellen stopped in this morning to say that she had been awake with a bad headache and had then overslept. The dear child, she should have all her strength for this news." "Did you ever hear of anything like it before?" "No, no, it is most extraordinary, most extraordinary. I remember George Ogilvie well, a handsome man. His wife was a pretty woman with a small mouth. They said she spent every penny he had. She died two years ago. You may be sure _she_ would never have allowed the story to be known." "Hertha should have known it years ago." "No, my dear, no." Miss Patty sat erect ready to dispute such a suggestion. Her voice quavered and her head had not ceased to shake, but she was alert to defend her conception of what was right and proper. "She should never have known it. This has put a stain forever upon her mother's name." "Her mother is long since dead," the northern woman answered sharply, "while the child is living. I can think of nothing more cruel than to save a daughter's honor by giving her infant to be reared by Negroes. It's frightful." "I don't agree with you." Miss Patty was herself once more. "The whole thing is very sad and wicked, of course, but life among the Negroes is not frightful, they are the happiest people in the world. One day is just as good as another to them. If the sun doesn't shine this morning it will the next. Hertha won't know what trouble means until she becomes white."