READING THE WILL.
Aunt Jane's funeral was extremely simple and quiet. The woman had
made no friends during her long residence in the neighborhood, having
isolated herself at "the big house" and refused to communicate in any
way with the families living near by. Therefore, although her death
undoubtedly aroused much interest and comment, no one cared to be
present at the obsequies.
So the minister came from Elmwood, and being unable to say much that
was good or bad of "the woman who had departed from this vale of
tears," he confined his remarks to generalities and made them as brief
as possible. Then the body was borne to the little graveyard a mile
away, followed by the state carriage, containing the three nieces
and Kenneth; the drag with Silas Watson and Uncle John, the former
driving; and then came the Elmhurst carryall with the servants. James
did not join these last; nor did he appear at the house after
that dreadful scene in the garden. He had a little room over the
tool-house, which Jane Merrick had had prepared for him years ago, and
here he locked himself in day and night, stealthily emerging but to
secure the food Susan carried and placed before his door.
No one minded James much, for all the inmates of Elhurst were under
severe and exciting strain in the days preceding the funeral.
The girls wept a little, but it was more on account of the solemnity
following the shadow of death than for any great affection they bore
their aunt. Patsy, indeed, tried to deliver a tribute to Aunt Jane's
memory; but it was not an emphatic success.
"I'm sure she had a good heart," said the girl, "and if she had lived
more with her own family and cultivated her friends she would have
been much less hard and selfish. At the last, you know, she was quite
gentle."
"I hadn't noticed it," remarked Beth.
"Oh, I did. And she made a new will, after that awful one she told us
of, and tried to be just and fair to all"
"I'm glad to hear that" said Louise. "Tell us, Patsy, what does the
will say? You must know all about it."
"Mr. Watson is going to read it, after the funeral," replied the girl,
"and then you will know as much about it as I do. I mustn't tell
secrets, my dear."
So Louise and Beth waited in much nervous excitement for the final
realization of their hopes or fears, and during the drive to the
cemetery there was little conversation in the state carriage.
Kenneth's sensitive nature was greatly affected by the death of the
woman who had played so important a part in the brief story of his
life, and the awe it inspired rendered him gloomy and silent. Lawyer
Watson had once warned him that Miss Merrick's death might make him an
outcast, and he felt the insecurity of his present position.
But Patsy, believing he would soon know of his good fortune, watched
him curiously during the ride, and beamed upon him as frequently as
her own low spirits would permit.
"You know, Ken," she reminded him, "that whatever happens we are
always to remain friends."
"Of course," replied the boy, briefly.
The girl had thrown aside her crutches, by this time, and planned to
return to her work immediately after the funeral.
The brief services at the cemetery being concluded, the little
cavalcade returned to Elmhurst, where luncheon was awaiting them.
Then Mr. Watson brought into the drawing room the tin box containing
the important Elmhurst papers in his possession, and having requested
all present to be seated he said:
"In order to clear up the uncertainty that at present exists
concerning Miss Merrick's last will and testament, I will now proceed
to read to you the document, which will afterward be properly probated
according to law."
There was no need to request their attention. An intense stillness
pervaded the room.
The lawyer calmly unlocked the tin box and drew out the sealed yellow
envelope which Miss Merrick had recently given him. Patsy's heart was
beating with eager expectancy. She watched the lawyer break the seal,
draw out the paper and then turn red and angry. He hesitated a moment,
and then thrust the useless document into its enclosure and cast it
aside.
"Is anything wrong?" asked the girl in a low whisper, which was yet
distinctly heard by all.
Mr. Watson seemed amazed. Jane Merrick's deceitful trickery,
discovered so soon after her death, was almost horrible for him to
contemplate. He had borne much from this erratic woman, but had never
believed her capable of such an act.
So he said, in irritable tones:
"Miss Merrick gave me this document a few days ago, leading me to
believe it was her last will. I had prepared it under her instruction
and understood that it was properly signed. But she has herself torn
off and destroyed the signature and marked the paper 'void,' so that
the will previously made is the only one that is valid."
"What do you mean?" cried Patsy, in amazement. "Isn't Kenneth to
inherit Elmhurst, after all?"
"Me! Me inherit?" exclaimed the boy.
"That is what she promised me," declared Patsy, while tears of
indignation stood in her eyes, "I saw her sign it, myself, and if she
has fooled me and destroyed the signature she's nothing but an old
fraud--and I'm glad she's dead!"
With this she threw herself, sobbing, upon a sofa, and Louise and
Beth, shocked to learn that after all their cousin had conspired
against them, forebore any attempt to comfort her.
But Uncle John, fully as indignant as Patricia, came to her side and
laid a hand tenderly on the girl's head.
"Never mind, little one." he said. "Jane was always cruel and
treacherous by nature, and we might have expected she'd deceive her
friends even in death. But you did the best you could, Patsy, dear,
and it can't be helped now."
Meantime the lawyer had been fumbling in the box, and now drew out the
genuine will.
"Give me your attention, please," said he.
Patsy sat up and glared at him.
"I won't take a cent of it!" she exclaimed.
"Be silent!" demanded the lawyer, sternly. "You have all, I believe,
been told by Miss Merrick of the terms of this will, which is properly
signed and attested. But it is my duty to read it again, from
beginning to end, and I will do so."
Uncle John smiled when his bequest was mentioned, and Beth frowned.
Louise, however, showed no sign of disappointment. There had been a
miserable scramble for this inheritance, she reflected, and she was
glad the struggle was over. The five thousand dollars would come in
handy, after all, and it was that much more than she had expected to
have before she received Aunt Jane's invitation. Perhaps she and her
mother would use part of it for a European trip, if their future plans
seemed to warrant it.
"As far as I am concerned," said Patsy, defiantly, "you may as well
tear up this will, too. I won't have that shameful old woman's money."
"That is a matter the law does not allow you to decide," returned the
lawyer, calmly. "You will note the fact that I am the sole executor of
the estate, and must care for it in your interests until you are of
age. Then it will he turned over to you to do as you please with."
"Can I give it away, if I want to?"
"Certainly. It is now yours without recourse, and although you cannot
dispose of it until you are of legal age, there will be nothing then
to prevent your transfering it to whomsoever you please. I called
Miss Merrick's attention to this fact when you refused to accept the
legacy."
"What did she say?"
"That you would be more wise then, and would probably decide to keep
it."
Patsy turned impulsively to the boy.
"Kenneth," she said, "I faithfully promise, in the presence of these
witnesses, to give you Elmhurst and all Aunt Jane's money as soon as I
am of age."
"Good for you, Patsy," said Uncle John.
The boy seemed bewildered.
"I don't want the money--really I don't!" he protested. "The five
thousand she left me will be enough. But I'd like to live here at
Elmhurst for a time, until it's sold or some one else comes to live in
the house!"
"It's yours," said Patsy, with a grand air. "You can live here
forever."
Mr. Watson seemed puzzled.
"If that is your wish, Miss Patricia," bowing gravely in her
direction, "I will see that it is carried out. Although I am, in
this matter, your executor, I shall defer to your wishes as much as
possible."
"Thank you," she said and then, after a moment's reflection, she
added: "Can't you give to Louise and Beth the ten thousand dollars
they were to have under the other will, instead of the five thousand
each that this one gives them?"
"I will consider that matter," he replied; "perhaps it can be
arranged."
Patsy's cousins opened their eyes at this, and began to regard her
with more friendly glances. To have ten thousand each instead of
five would be a very nice thing, indeed, and Miss Patricia Doyle
had evidently become a young lady whose friendship it would pay to
cultivate. If she intended to throw away the inheritance, a portion of
it might fall to their share.
They were expressing to Patsy their gratitude when old Donald suddenly
appeared in the doorway and beckoned to Uncle John.
"Will you please come to see James, sir?" he asked. "The poor fellow's
dying."