“I learned it only an hour ago, Doctor.”

“I see.  I felt it my duty to inform Miss Walton of her cousin’s death and called on her at noon.  Miss Walton’s parents and Ed’s were not intimate when the two were children; some silly misunderstanding in regard to a division of old Colonel Phelps’s property after he died.  As it turned out they might have spared themselves the quarrel, for a later will was afterwards found leaving his entire estate to churches and schools.  Well, I was going to say that Ed’s death was not much of a grief to Miss Walton because she had really never known him, but, nevertheless, she would naturally wish to hear the particulars.  I came to suggest that you should give me the honor of allowing me to present you to Miss Walton, Mr. Herrick.”

“I shall be very glad to meet her,” replied Wade, “and tell her all I can about Ed. We were very close friends for several years and a finer chap never breathed.”

“I’m delighted to hear you say so.  I’ve brought a good many into this world, Mr. Herrick, but very few have ever made me proud of the fact.”

“I fear you’re a bit of a pessimist, Doctor.”

“No, no, I’m only honest.  With myself, that is.  In my dealings with others, sir, I’m—­just an ordinary New Englander.”

“That sounds hard on New Englanders,” said Wade with a smile.  “Do you mean to say that they’re not honest?”

“New Englanders are honest according to their lights, Mr. Herrick, but their lights are sometimes dim.  Shall we say this evening for our call on the ladies?  Miss Walton has with her a Miss Mullett, a very dear and estimable girl who resides with her in the role of companion.  I say girl, but you mustn’t be deceived.  When you get to sixty-odd you’ll find that any lady under fifty is still a girl to you.  Miss Mullett, through regrettable circumstances, was overlooked by the seekers after wives and is what you would call a maiden lady.  She plays a remarkable hand of cribbage, Mr. Herrick.”

“This evening will suit me perfectly, Doctor.”

“Then shall we say about half-past seven?  We don’t keep very late hours in Eden Village.  We sup at six, make our calls at seven or half-past, and go to bed promptly at ten.  A light in a window after ten o’clock indicates but one thing, illness.”

“How about burglars?” laughed Wade.

“Burglars?  Bless my soul, we never have ’em, sir.  Sometimes a tramp, but never a burglar.  Even tramps don’t bother us much.”  The Doctor chuckled as he rescued his hat and cane from beside his chair.  “Zenas Prout tells a story to show why Eden Village is exempt.  We have a lady here, Mr. Herrick, who should have been of rights a descendant of old Colonel Phelps, Ed’s grandfather on his mother’s side.  The old Colonel’s name was synonymous for—­let us say self-denial.  The lady in question is a very estimable lady, sir, oh, very estimable, but, while she is probably our richest citizen, she is