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The Golden Age for February 13, 1913.
MISS CRANE’S CHANCE: & paynp
CHAPTER XVI.
T was a lovel y Spring afternoon,
full of balm and sunshine, the
r'R birds twittered in the magnolia
trees on the side of the great man-
C s i° n ’ as^ie( i their wings in brief
hstßr flights under the big white pillars
crO ‘ on guard across the front, and
xP chattered on the marble railing
water streamed heavenward in a rainbow show
er of glory through the uplifted shell in the
hand of a bronze cupid which posed gracefully
on one foot.
Nell was in the library singing gayly a frag
ment of song, when Miss Crane, in a dark blue
house dress, came down the stairway, and en
tered the room. She felt glad and thankful
that she had something left on the earth to
call her own, as she glanced at the girl, who
looked wonderfully attractive in a pink and
white house gown, as she stood arranging a
shelf of books. All her heart went out to her
in a sudden rush of tenderness, as she feasted
on the beauty of her profile, and the quiet grace
of her movements. But she said nothing about
her thoughts, asking instead the very common
place question of “Where is Gertrude?”
“Gone to see about the children,” Nell an
swered with a smile, “who are the happy pos
sessors of the atrocious names.”
“Well, it seems to me.” her aunt replied as
she appropriated a chair- “that since their
names have been abbreviated, they are quite
as attractive as the nomenclatures of other
people.”
“Assuredly. But since I do not agree with
Shakespeare that a rose by any other name
would smell as sweet. I reserve the right to
rejoice in the change.”
Miss Crane did not reply, and after a time
Nell finished her work, and sat down in a low
rocking-chair by the window. Miss Crane
looked up at last with her blue eyes narrowed
reflectively.
“Have you written down in your Financial
Record, Nell,” she inquired in a thoughtful
tone, “the amounts, and names of the persons
and institutions to whom I gave money while
I was in the city?”
“Everything exactly according to the data
you gave me,” Nell affirmed. “But your Sec
retary of Finance, Aunt Caro, feels constrain
ed to inform you,” she added with an amused
glance, “that if you continue to give away
your income at the rate of fifteen thousand a
week, you will not have anything left your
self soon, to pay your own grocery man and
washerwoman, to say nothing about the serv
ants’ wages.”
“I have still four thousand in bank to my
credit,” Miss Crane answered. “But it wifi
take at least twenty-five hundred of that
amount to remodel an old store, which belongs
to the estate, into a lunch room and dormitory
for the working girls in this town, who need
help—typewriter girls and saleswomen. I want
a concrete front, and everything else modern,
convenient and comfortable. Tn fact, it may
cost double that amount before I am through
with it. So, we will have to try to run our
household, dear, on what is left, until next
quarter pay-day.”
“Well, I guess we can,” Nell replied. “I’ll
remit my salary into the family exchequer if
necessary. Indeed, Aunt Caro, I should like
to feel that I had a vital personal part in the
glory of the game that is going on. For, ex
cept, that I have investigated the facts here
about the working girls in our town, and sub
mitted them for your consideration, it seems
to me that my time has been spent, more or
less, frivolously.”
“No, my little girl, no,” Miss Crane said
with a thrill in her voice. “You are my own
individual inspiration, and my love for you
helps me to live on. Indeed, your sympathetic
backing up, is all the earthly support I have
upon which to lean. Besides, with Peter
Blackburn’s help, you relieve me so entirely
of household cares that I am left free in a beau
tiful home, to think at my leisure for others,
and plan accordingly.”
“Thanks,” Nell said with misty eyes.
“But listen!” Miss Crane went on in a seri
ous tone. “I have been thinking out the data
for my will for sometime, and I wish that you
would get a tablet and write out my instruc
tions, so that I can submit them to Wayland
Hamilton this afternoon. For you know, I
supremely desire to make a wise disposition of
all that has been bequeathed to me.”
“And you will have fifty thousand more
than you had anticipated,” Nell said in a quiet
tone, “to will away. Because, Aunt Caro, I
have come to the conclusion that I do not want
you to leave me a cent.”
“Nell!” JVEiss Crane exclaimed, “have you
lost your mind?”
“No, but I have made it up that I want to
be loved for myself.”
“Who do you think,” Miss Crane inquired
in a tense tone, “desires to marry you for
money?”
“Nobody,” Nell replied with a sudden dark
ening of her eyes, “but I talked the matter
over with Mr. Hamilton, and he said that if I
desired it, he also would beg you to disinherit
me.”
“Why should you discuss the subject with
him ? ’ ’
“I knew that he would have to write your
will,” Nell replied, “and consequently did not
see any impropriety in it.”
“No, perhaps not,” Miss Crane returned,
“but Nell, whether you did it consciously or
unconsciously, you did it to test him?’"
“I —yes, Aunt Caro,” Nell faltered. “He
had been so thoughtful, and sent me so many
flowers. ’ ’
“And he stood the test,” Miss Crane said,
her eyes, growing dark with excitement.
“Well, yes, he consented to help me achieve
the disinheritance act, if it would make me
any happier,” Nell explained with a whimsical
smile.
“He is a man of his word,” Miss Crane re
sponded, “and that settles it. You need not
keep him, my child, on the gridiron any longer.
Besides, I intend to make him the executor of
my will because I have reason to know that
Powhattan Gray trusted him unconditionally.
And since 1 have had so many business inter
views and dealings with him, I cordially en
dorse his judgment. Wayland Hamilton is a
son of the people—a self-made man. His fa
ther was a clergyman, and he had to hew out
his own path to success. That he has kept his
faith in God and man proves the value of early
training. Indeed, there is no one in the world
I would dare to trust so much, except my little
girl. In fact, it has been a dream of mine for
a long time,” the elder woman continued with
a certain appeal in her voice, “to have you and
Wayland as co-executors of my will. You un
derstand, Nell, that I want to leave my money
in the hands of those nearest to me, who have
had a vital personal interest in me, and my
plans. You and Wayland stand in that rela
tion, and you would naturally be more inter
ested in my point of view than any one else.”
Miss Crane paused for a long moment, and
then began again in quite a matter of fact
voice: “Now, you may take the data for the
will, Nell, if you will be so kind,” and then
she added with an unconscious sigh, “I’ll just
tell you plainly what I want, and you can turn
it into such phraseology as appeals to you, so
that you preserve the facts. First, I wish to
build a big publishing house in the city for
the home of a religious weekly, of which, my
friend, W. D. Howard, is the editor. In that
building of many stories, I wish to reserve
four entire floors for a dormitory for home
less girls, and I do not want the rent of those
rooms to exceed three dollars a month, so that
the humblest little worker can have it within
her power to have a nicely furnished room, and
a home presided over by some good and com
petent woman. And I also want an employ
ment bureau, there properly equipped and with
the right sort of man at the head of it. And be
sides that, I want to enlarge and remodel the
home where I used to live, into an infirmary
for the old. This neglected class appeals to me
very deeply for they seem in this rushing com
mercial age to be the least considered of all
the Father’s children. I want this home called
the Powhattan Gray Infirmary. Then I want
to build a home for orphan girls, and I wish
it run in such a humane way that these unfor
tunate waifs will feel encouraged to make the
best of themselves. And if you and Wayland
think best, you might name the orphanage for
me.”
Nell looked up from the tablet on which she
was writing down her aunt’s instructions, with
a face of utter dismay. “It is all very beauti
ful and humanitarian, Aunt Caro,” she said in
a quiet voice, “but if you keep on instructing
your executors to build and build institutions
and homes, they will be up against it to dis
cover the money, it seems to me, large as
your fortune is.”
“Well, that is all you know about it, Nell,”
Miss Crane answered with an indulgent smile,
“because perhaps you did not happen to read
my mail last week. The railroad which caused
my financial panic some time ago, it seems, is
going to be sold, and I have been offered $50,-
000 for my share holdings in it. Also, the mine
in which the balance of my money was invest
ed, has been boomed and advertised, until I
shall probably realize a hundred thousand out
of it. So, you see, my dear little girl,” she
continued in a tender tone, “since I have
proved that I am willing to use my money for
others, it seems I am going to be overwhelmed
with it. I really found it difficult to believe
the evidence of my own eyes, Nell, when I first
read those letters. I felt dazed like I had been
struck on the head with a piece of stove-wood.
But I have re-read them, and slept over the
matter, so I guess that they are genuine. But
listen! I expect to spend my time and energies
in making some of these big plans into reali
ties before I go away, but what I fail to do,
dear, for lack of time, I want you and Way
land to finish. And now,” she added with
rather a wistful tone, “there is just one more
question to settle. Are you willing to be the
executor of my will, and carry out my plans
with Wayland Hamilton or not?”
Nell put down her book and pencil, and
walked over to the window and stood there
with her hands clasped in front of her —for a
time without uttering a word.
“And you are willing, Aunt Caro,” she said
at last, “to trust him with all that money, and
the carrying out of all your plans and wishes?”
“Absolutely,” she answered in a convincing
tone. “Powhattan Gray trusted him, and he
was a much better judge of character than I
am.” She had read the dead man’s opinion
of the lawyer, in the journal she had found.
“In fact,” she went on in a very gentle tone,
“he loved him, and sometimes I think I do,
too.”
“Would it hurt you, Aunt Caro,” Nell in
quired, in a tensre tone, “if I should refuse
your request?”
“Cruelly,” her aunt answered. “It would in
deed be one of the bitterest disappointments
of my life.”
(Continued on Page 9.)
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