The light played on his face which was
set in grim earnestness.
"It seems a wicked shame," he observed in a whisper, as he viewed the
funeral pyre, "but it's the only way. Long's that dress remained on
earth there'd be no peace for Bart nor his wife either. It had to go."
The flames danced higher, flashing in and out of the trimmings of jet
and charring the beads to dullness. In the morning only a heap of gray
ashes marked the flight of Minnie Coffin's social ambitions.
"_Requiescat in pace_!" murmured Willie as with lips firm with Puritan
stoicism he passed by the stove. There he added gently: "Poor Minnie!
Poor foolish Minnie!"
CHAPTER XIX
WILLIE AS PILOT
The invention was finished! The last rivet was in place, the last
screw secure, and before the fulfilment of his dream the little old man
stood with glowing face. It was a gentle, happy face with misty blue
eyes that carried at the moment a serene contentment.
"I couldn't 'a' done it but for you, Bob," he was saying. "The idea
was all well enough, but 'twould 'a' been of no use without other
brains to carry it out.
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