"’Your uncle, Captain Jethro Potts, of this town, passed into rest this day at noon. The funeral is set for Thursday at ten in the morning, that being high tide. You and your family is hereby notified and are requested to be present at the unsealing of Captain Potts’ will in Judge Waddams’ office which will follow the ceremony at the grave. "’Your relation by marriage, "’ICIVILLA POTTS.’" Then followed the date. The reading of the letter for the moment left the trio—even the mail carrier—stunned. The latter finally said: "Well! Well! That’s sad news—’tis, for a fact. I expect he left a tidy bit of money?" "Poor Uncle Jethro!" murmured Miss Heppy. "I don’t know how much money Uncle Jethro had to leave," said Tobias slowly. "But however much or little ’twas, he left it all. That’s sure." Amos gathered up the reins. "Course you’ll both go down to the funeral?" "’Tain’t likely," Tobias said. "Somebody’s got to stay and nuss this light, and I cal’late ’twill be me." But Miss Heppy would not hear to that. She declared it to be her brother’s duty to go and represent their branch of the family. To tell the truth, Miss Heppy had never in her life been farther from Clinkerport than to the East Harwich Fair, while Tobias was, of course, like all deep-bottom sailors, "a traveled man." Came Thursday, and Zeke Bassett arrived with his motor car to take Tobias to the train. It was rather an early hour for a man to climb into his Sunday suit, and the lightkeeper hated formal dress. He should have been well used to the black suit by this time. It had served him for state occasions for full twenty years. When it was bought Tobias had not been so full-bodied as he was now. He was a sturdy man, built brickwise, with more corners than curves, and the black short-tailed coat strained at each and every seam to keep him within its bounds. To have buttoned it across his chest would have rent button from fabric. It was so tight at the armholes that his elbows were held from his sides and his shoulders squared in a most military fashion. Tight as the coat was at these points, there were three sets of wrinkles plainly evident at the back—two perpendicular and one set horizontal. Altogether this ensemble of dress gave one the impression of a rather bulgy man being slowly choked to death by his own habit. "I don’t mind wearin’ ’em on the Sabbath," confessed Tobias. "To keep in a proper frame of mind to enjoy one of Elder Hardraven’s sermons, who’s as melancholy as a widder woman with six small children, a feller needs to have something wearing on his mind b’sides his hair. It makes me right religious feeling to put on Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes." "For love’s sake!" his sister said tartly, "you’re going to a funeral. I should think you would expect to feel religious."