READING THE WILL
Apparently the deceased had but few relatives. But six persons were in
a small room appropriated to the mourners when our hero and his new
acquaintance entered. One of these, and far the most imposing in
appearance, was a stout lady, who quite filled up the only armchair in
the room. In a plain chair close by was a meek little man, three inches
shorter, and probably not more than half her weight. A boy and girl, the
children of the ill-matched pair, the former resembling the father, the
latter the mother, were ranged alongside. Permit me to introduce Mr. and
Mrs. Josiah Pinkerton, of Castleton, an adjoining town. Master Albert
and Miss Nancy Pinkerton.
Mrs. Pinkerton is a milliner, and her husband is her clerk and errand
boy. She has considerable business capacity, and makes enough to support
the family comfortably, besides adding something annually to the fund in
the savings bank. The relationship to the deceased is on the side of
the husband, who is a cousin. This relationship has given rise to great
expectations on the part of Mrs. Pinkerton, who fully expects to inherit
half the estate of Mr. Carter.
“If we get it, Josiah,” she has promised magnificently, “I'll buy you a
new suit of clothes.”
“But, Maria,” expostulated the meek husband, “it will be left to me, not
to you.”
“Why so?” demanded she, frowning.
“Because he is my cousin, not yours.”
“You indeed!” retorted the wife, angrily; “and what do you know about
the use of money? Who supports the family, I should like to know?”
“I help,” answered Josiah, meekly.
“And precious little you help,” returned his wife, sarcastically. “So
far as you are concerned, we should all be in the poor house long before
this. No, Josiah, the money must come into my hands. I'll give you a
good allowance, and hire an errand boy so that you needn't have to carry
round bundles. You ought to be contented with that.”
As no legacy had yet been received, Mr. Pinkerton thought it best not to
continue the discussion. Indeed, he was rather afraid of his imperious
wife, who held the reins of authority, and whom he did not dare to
dispute.
The two other relations were, first, a brown-faced and brown-handed
farmer, Alonzo Granger, and an old lady, of seventy or thereabouts--Miss
Nancy Carter, a sister of the deceased. For years she had lived on a
small pension from her brother, increased somewhat by knitting stockings
for the neighbors. She, indeed, was the only real mourner. The rest were
speculating about how far they were likely to be benefited by the death
of the deceased, of whom they had seen but little in life. Even Herbert,
though impressed by the presence of death, could hardly be expected to
feel deep grief for a man who had neglected his mother in his life.
Of the funeral rites it is unnecessary to speak. We are interested in
what came afterwards.
The relations were quietly notified to meet at five o'clock in the
office of Mr. Spencer, the lawyer, to whom had been intrusted the will
of the late Mr. Carter. Those who have even a slight knowledge of human
nature will not need to be told that the attendance of all was punctual.
There was an anxious, expectant look on the faces of all--not even
excepting the old lady. She knew that if her brother had made no
provision for her, she must go to the alms-house, and against this her
honest pride revolted. She was willing to live on anything, however
little, if she might live independently, as she had hitherto done. To
feel herself dependent on public charity would indeed have been a hard
trial for the poor old lady. Of all, probably Mrs. Pinkerton was the
most confident. She had come to feel that her family was entitled to a
large share of the estate, and she had gone so far as to decide just how
she would invest it, and what new arrangements she would make, for she
had no idea of consulting her husband on the subject.
The lawyer was a gentlemanly-looking man, whose face inspired confidence
in his integrity--a remark which, unhappily, cannot be made of all in
his profession. He took his seat at a table, and produced the will,
which he considerately commenced reading at once. After the usual
introduction, the will proceeded thus:
“To my sister Nancy I give the use of my house, rent free, as long as
she shall live. I leave her also an income of two hundred dollars a
year, which, as her wants are small, will be sufficient to maintain her
in comfort.”
The old lady breathed a sigh of relief. Her fears were removed. She
could continue to live as she had been accustomed to do, and need not
be beholden to private or public charity. Mrs. Pinkerton was not so well
pleased. She felt almost as if she had been deprived of what belonged
to her by right. She frowned at Miss Nancy, but the old lady
was unconscious of the displeasure excited in the bosom of her
imposing-looking relative.
The lawyer proceeded: “To my cousin, Alonzo Granger, I leave one
hundred dollars; not because he needs it, for I understand that he is
well-to-do, but as a mark of remembrance.”
The farmer scowled slightly, and opened and closed his brown hands in
dissatisfaction. He was well-to-do; but when was a man ever satisfied
with that? He had counted upon a few thousands, with which he proposed
to buy an adjoining farm. Mrs. Pinkerton, however, was pleased. There
was so much the more for her.
“To Cornelius Dixon”--here Herbert's morning acquaintance began to feel
excited--“I bequeath one hundred dollars, to buy a looking-glass and a
new suit of clothes.”
The young man's face lengthened very perceptibly as he heard the small
amount of his legacy, and he glared savagely at Mrs. Pinkerton, who
showed a mirthful face at his discomfiture.
Her turn came next.
“To Josiah Pinkerton, his wife and children, I leave one hundred
dollars apiece; also my best black pantaloons, which he or his wife may
appropriate, as may be arranged between them.”
All except the Pinkertons laughed at this sly hit, and even the lawyer
smiled; but the stout lady flushed with rage and disappointment, and
ejaculated: “Abominable!” The eyes of all were now directed to Herbert,
who was the only one remaining. Could it be possible that the balance
of the property was left to him? The fear of this made him the focus of
unfriendly eyes, and he became restive and anxious.
“To my namesake, Herbert Carter, I leave a black trunk which I keep in
my room, with all that it contains. To his mother I direct that the sum
of one hundred dollars be paid.”
This was not much, but it was more than Herbert had expected. He knew
how welcome even one hundred dollars would be to his mother, and he
looked satisfied--the only one of the party, except the old lady, who
showed any pleasure at the contents of the will.
The relatives looked bewildered. All had been mentioned in turn, and yet
but a small part--a very small part--of the estate had been disposed of.
Mrs. Pinkerton bluntly expressed the general curiosity.
“Who's to have the rest, Mr. Spencer?” she demanded.
“I'm coming to that,” answered the lawyer, quietly.
“All the rest and residue of my property, of whatever kind, I leave to
the town of Randolph, to establish a high school, directing that not
more than twenty thousand dollars be expended upon the building, which
shall be of brick. I desire that the school shall be known as the Carter
School, to the end that my name may be remembered in connection with
what I hope will prove a public blessing.” “That is all,” said the
lawyer, and he laid down the will upon the table.