Winter having passed away, Mr. Dewey saw it expedient to retire from
the Allen House. By this time nothing more was heard of his Italian
Villa. He had something else to occupy his thoughts. As there was no
house to be rented in S----, that in any way corresponded with his
ideas, he stored his furniture, and took board at the new hotel
which had lately been erected.
Mr. Wallingford now made preparations for removing to the old
mansion, which was still the handsomest place, by all odds, in our
town.
One day, early in the summer, I received a note from Mr.
Wallingford, asking me to call around at Ivy Cottage in the evening.
At the bottom of the note, was a pencilled line from his wife to
Constance, asking the pleasure of seeing her also. We went after
tea.
"Come with me to the library, Doctor!" said my excellent friend,
soon after our arrival. "I want to have a little talk with you."
So we left the ladies and retired to the library.
"My business with you to-night," said he, as we seated ourselves,
facing each other, on opposite sides of the library-table, "is to
get at some adjustment of affairs between us, as touching your
executorship of the Allen estate.
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