Roberta I have set aside twenty thousand. I should like to leave you as much. If, after Roberta’s twenty thousand and twenty for you, there is anything left, it goes to the Martins. That’s all in my will. But I will not saddle you with Roberta. You will be her guardian, but she will not have to live with you. She will be happier if she doesn’t, and it will be more fair to you and Jesse.”
Mary moved her lips to form a protest but did not speak it.
“The Martins have already had their share. I have been very weak with ’em. I love them too much, but while my head’s clear I’m arranging not to be weak with ’em after my death.”
She finished up the conversation in much the same manner in which she finished and folded up her work, and Mary was not invited to discuss the subject with her.
Early that winter Mrs. Wilkey died. Kate and Mary were alone in the house with her. Kate was dazed and made stupid by the event. She sat in an armchair in her mother’s room, staring at the floor or the foot of the bed, her face dull with unrealized sorrow. Mary had to meet the girls and Roberta and tell them of the death of someone who belonged almost more to them than to herself. At least, it seemed so at that moment.
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