The mother and the elder sister had been pitiless to the last.  Neither had ever spoken to her since she left her home the night of her marriage.  They were hard women.

The three daughters of the disinherited sister had lived quiet and poor, but not actually needy lives.  Jane, the middle daughter, had married, and died in less than a year.  Amanda and Sophia had taken the girl baby she left when the father married again.  Sophia had taught a primary school for many years; she had saved enough to buy the little house in which they lived.  Amanda had crocheted lace, and embroidered flannel, and made tidies and pincushions, and had earned enough for her clothes and the child’s, little Flora Scott.

Their father, William Gill, had died before they were thirty, and now in their late middle life had come the death of the aunt to whom they had never spoken, although they had often seen her, who had lived in solitary state in the old Ackley mansion until she was more than eighty.  There had been no will, and they were the only heirs with the exception of young Flora Scott, the daughter of the dead sister.

Sophia and Amanda thought directly of Flora when they knew of the inheritance.

“It will be a splendid thing for her; she will have enough to live on when we are gone,” Sophia said.

She had promptly decided what was to be done.  The small house was to be sold, and they were to move into the old Ackley house and take boarders to pay for its keeping.  She scouted the idea of selling it.  She had an enormous family pride.  She had always held her head high when she had walked past that fine old mansion, the cradle of her race, which she was forbidden to enter.  She was unmoved when the lawyer who was advising her disclosed to her the fact that Harriet Ackley had used every cent of the Ackley money.

“I realize that we have to work,” said she, “but my sister and I have determined to keep the place.”

That was the end of the discussion.  Sophia and Amanda Gill had been living in the old Ackley house a fortnight, and they had three boarders:  an elderly widow with a comfortable income, a young congregationalist clergyman, and the middle-aged single woman who had charge of the village library.  Now the school-teacher from Acton, Miss Louisa Stark, was expected for the summer, and would make four.

Sophia considered that they were comfortably provided for.  Her wants and her sister’s were very few, and even the niece, although a young girl, had small expenses, since her wardrobe was supplied for years to come from that of the deceased aunt.  There were stored away in the garret of the Ackley house enough voluminous black silks and satins and bombazines to keep her clad in somber richness for years to come.

Flora was a very gentle girl, with large, serious blue eyes, a seldom-smiling, pretty mouth, and smooth flaxen hair.  She was delicate and very young—­sixteen on her next birthday.