NAN MAY rose another woman in the morning; for there was work before her.
The children marvelled to see her so calm and so busy, so full of thought
for the business in hand, so little occupied with sorrowful remembrance.
The old man, prudent ever, had arranged years since for what had now
befallen. There was a simple little will on a sheet of notepaper. There
was a great and complicated list, on odd scraps of paper, thickly beset
with additions, alterations, and crossings-out, of the "specimens"
hoarded in the cottage; with pencil notes of values, each revised a dozen
times, as the market changed. There was a Post-Office Savings Bank
deposit book, with entries amounting to eight pounds ten, and a
nomination form whereby Nan May might withdraw the money. There was no
life-insurance, for the old man had surrendered it years ago, to secure
the few pounds he needed to make up the full price of the cottage.
The will gave Nan May all there might be to take, and left her to
execute. Uncle Isaac, on the return to the cottage the day before, had
at length broken into speech, and by devious approaches, cunningly
disguised and ostentatiously casual, had reached the will. But he got
little by his motion, for though his niece told him the will's purport,
she protested that till to-morrow she should do nothing with it, nor did
she even offer to produce it. Of course, he had scarcely expected a
legacy himself; but still, he was Uncle Isaac, profound in experience,
learned in the law, and an oracle in the family. It seemed, to say the
least, a little scandalous that he should not have had the handling of
this property, the selling, the control, the doling out, with such
consideration the exertion might earn, and the accidents of arithmetic
detach.
"It's an important thing, is a will," said Uncle Isaac sagely. "A thing
as ought to be seen to by a experienced person. You might jist look an'
see 'ow it's wrote. If any's wrote in pencil it's nullavoid."
"No," replied Mrs. May, without moving. "It's all in ink."
Then, after a long pause: "Lawyers comes very expensive with wills,"
Uncle Isaac observed. "They come expensive alwis, an' mostly they rob
the property accordin' to form o' lawr. It's best to get a man of
experience, as you can trust, to go straight to Somerset 'ouse in form o'
porpus . . . It's the cheapest way, an' safe. 'E takes the will, jist
as it might be me, an' 'e goes to the 'thorities, an' 'e talks to 'em,
knowin' an' confidential. 'Ere I am, ses 'e, as it might be me, on
be'alf o' the last will an' 'oly testament as it might be o' Mr. May.
An' I've come in form o' porpus, 'avin' objections to lawyers. In form
o' porpus," Uncle Isaac repeated impressively, tapping a forefinger on
the table: as was his way of blazoning an erudite phrase that else might
pass unregarded.
"Poor gran'dad told me what to do about goin' to Somerset House, an' all
that," answered Nan May, "in case anything happened. But I'd take it
very kind if you'd come with me, Uncle Isaac, me not understandin' such
things. But I can't think about it to-day." And with so much of his
finger in the pie Uncle Isaac was fain to be content. And soon he left,
declining to stay for the night--to Johnny's great relief--because his
cheap return-ticket was available for the day and no more.
* * * * *
And now Johnny, having brought sheets of foolscap paper from Loughton,
was set to work to make a fair copy of the amazing list of specimens; a
work at great length accomplished in an unstable round hand, but on the
whole with not so many blots. And Nan May's series of visits to Somerset
House was begun, saddening her with a cost of one and ninepence each
visit for fares in train and omnibus. The first, indeed, cost more, for
Uncle Isaac's fare from Millwall was also to be paid. But he came no
more, for in truth his failure as a man of business was instant and
ignoble.
To begin with, the shadow of the awful building fell on him as he neared
it, extinguishing his confidence and stopping his tongue. In the
quadrangle the very tall hat distinguished an Uncle Isaac of hushed
speech and meek docility, and along the corridors it followed Nan May
deferentially, in unresting pursuit of room No. 37. The room was reached
at last, and here Uncle Isaac found himself constrained to open the
business. For Nan May herself held back now, and the young man in
gold-rimmed glasses fixed him with his eye. So, taking off his hat with
both hands, Uncle Isaac, in a humble murmur, began:--"We've--good
mornin', sir--we've come as it might be in form o' porpus--"
"What?"
"As regards to a will," Uncle Isaac explained desperately, dropping his
technicality like a hot rivet. "As regards to a will an' dyin' testament
which the late deceased did--did write out."
"Very well. Are you the executor?"
"Well, sir, not as it might be executor. No. But as uncle to Mr. May's
daughter-in-law by marriage--"
"Are _you_?" The gentleman turned abruptly to Nan May, who gave him the
will. Whereupon Uncle Isaac, in a hopeful way of recovering nerve and
eloquence, was thrust out of the business, and told that Nan May alone
would be dealt with. And he retired once more into shadow, with a little
relief to leaven a great deal of injured dignity.
So that for the rest Nan May relied on herself alone, and hardened her
face to the world. When the specimens came to be sold, a smart young man
came from the London firm of naturalists, to make an offer. He examined
the trays and cases as hastily and carelessly as was consistent with a
privily sharp eye to all they held, and with the air of contempt proper
for a professional buyer. For in such a matter of business the widow and
the orphan needing money are the weak party, humble and timid, watching
small signs with sinking hearts, and easy to beat: and a man of business
worth the name of one, takes advantage of the fact for every penny it
will bring. So the smart young man, looking more contemptuous than ever,
and dusting his fingers with his pocket-handkerchief, flung Nan May an
offer of five pounds for the lot.
"No, thank-you, sir," the woman answered with simple decision. "I'm
sorry you've had the trouble. Good-morning." Which was not the reply
the young man had looked for, and indeed, not a reply easy of rejoinder.
So he was constrained to some unbending of manner, and a hint that his
firm might increase the offer if she would name a sum. And the whole
thing ended with a letter carrying a cheque for forty pounds. Which was
very handsome indeed, for the young man's firm would scarce have paid
more than eighty pounds for the collection In the ordinary way of trade.
And so the old man's little affairs were gathered up, and the Inland
Revenue took its bite out of the estate, and there were no more journeys
to Somerset House. But nobody would buy the cottage.