When the latter returned from her afternoon’s absence, she stood for a minute or two on the little flight of steep steps, whitened to a snowy whiteness; the aspect of the whole house partook of the same character of irreproachable cleanliness.  It was wedged up into a space which necessitated all sorts of odd projections and irregularities in order to obtain sufficient light for the interior; and if ever the being situated in a dusky, confined corner might have been made an excuse for dirt, Alice Rose’s house had that apology.  Yet the small diamond panes of glass in the casement window were kept so bright and clear that a great sweet-scented-leaved geranium grew and flourished, though it did not flower profusely.  The leaves seemed to fill the air with fragrance as soon as Hester summoned up energy enough to open the door.  Perhaps that was because the young Quaker, William Coulson, was crushing one between his finger and thumb, while waiting to set down Alice’s next words.  For the old woman, who looked as if many years of life remained in her yet, was solemnly dictating her last will and testament.

It had been on her mind for many months; for she had something to leave beyond the mere furniture of the house.  Something—­a few pounds—­in the hands of John and Jeremiah Foster, her cousins:  and it was they who had suggested the duty on which she was engaged.  She had asked William Coulson to write down her wishes, and he had consented, though with some fear and trepidation; for he had an idea that he was infringing on a lawyer’s prerogative, and that, for aught he knew, he might be prosecuted for making a will without a licence, just as a man might be punished for selling wine and spirits without going through the preliminary legal forms that give permission for such a sale.  But to his suggestion that Alice should employ a lawyer, she had replied—­

’That would cost me five pounds sterling; and thee canst do it as well, if thee’ll but attend to my words.’

So he had bought, at her desire, a black-edged sheet of fine-wove paper, and a couple of good pens, on the previous Saturday; and while waiting for her to begin her dictation, and full serious thought himself, he had almost unconsciously made the grand flourish at the top of the paper which he had learnt at school, and which was there called a spread-eagle.

‘What art thee doing there?’ asked Alice, suddenly alive to his proceedings.

Without a word he showed her his handiwork.

‘It’s a vanity,’ said she, ’and ‘t may make t’ will not stand.  Folk may think I were na in my right mind, if they see such fly-legs and cob-webs a-top.  Write, “This is my doing, William Coulson, and none of Alice Rose’s, she being in her sound mind."’

‘I don’t think it’s needed,’ said William.  Nevertheless he wrote down the words.

’Hast thee put that I’m in my sound mind and seven senses?  Then make the sign of the Trinity, and write, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."’