THE LEGACIES
Frederik, glancing at the backs of the three eager, huddled figures
crouching almost literally in the fireplace, smiled again to
himself--and allowed them to wait.
Finally, Colonel Lawton could stand it no longer. Still with his back to
the heir, and his eyes toward the fire, he cried:
"Well, go ahead, Frederik."
No response. Mr. Batholommey tried next.
"I knew your uncle would remember his friends and his charities," he
said smugly. "He gave it in such a free-handed, princely way."
Frederik could not resist a sarcastic chuckle, as he glanced toward the
three backs once more, and then began to read the memorandum aloud.
"_For Mrs. Batholommey:_"
He got no further for, at the first word, the three chairs were turned
around to face Frederik, quickly and simultaneously; so that the
beneficiaries might not have even their own backs between them and their
coming fortune.
At hearing her name, Mrs. Batholommey burst out:
"The dear man! To think he remembered _me_! I knew he'd remember the
church and Mr. Batholommey--of course--but to think he'd remember _me_!"
Here she cast her eyes up to heaven in grateful recognition.
"He knew that our income was very limited," she went on comfortably. "He
was _so thoughtful_. His purse," she sighed with feeling, "was always
open."
Having delivered this eulogism of the dead, the lady folded her hands
placidly, and with eyes cast down, but attentive, settled herself to
await developments.
Frederik looked at her a moment, grinned to himself, then continued:
"_For Mr. Batholommey:_"
The clergyman nodded solemnly, but a pleased expression crept about the
corners of his mouth and his face took on an extra look of smugness.
"Our reward is laid up for us," he murmured sententiously, "where we
least expect it."
"Quite so----" said Frederik shortly. "And as the doctor isn't
here--well, the next is you, Colonel. The others mentioned are people
in his employ."
Colonel Lawton settled lower in his chair, until he might almost be said
to be lying on his back. He crossed his legs luxuriously and took a
cigar from his pocket, saying as he lighted it:
"He knew I did the best I could for him--the _grand old man_!" Then
dropping the eulogistic tone for one of strict business:
"What'd he leave me?"
Frederik kept them waiting a moment longer. He was having the time of
his life. He had purposely strung out the situation to its last thread,
for the joy of witnessing the self-satisfied eagerness of the three
legatees. Silent now, but acutely attentive, they sat with watchful eyes
trained on Frederik and the all-important paper which he was holding so
carelessly in his hand--the paper that was presently to tell them so
much of moment. Then it came.
"Mrs. Batholommey, he wishes you to have his miniature--with his
affectionate regard."
Frederik took a miniature from the desk drawer and offered it to Mrs.
Batholommey with much ceremony. She did not take it, but sat waiting as
before, merely folding her hands as she purred:
"Dear old gentleman--and--er--yes?"
Frederik seemed not to hear her, and laying the miniature on the desk,
went on reading:
"To Mr. Batholommey----"
The clergyman's wife broke in quickly.
"But--er--you didn't finish _mine_!"
Frederik turned around in his chair and looked directly at her.
"You're finished," he said.
"I'm _finished_?" cried Mrs. Batholommey, in a voice trembling with
indignation.
"Rose!" her husband remonstrated in severe rebuke.
"Oh, it's all very well for you to say 'Rose!' How would _you_ like it
to get nothing but an old picture? Tell me that!"
Here she had recourse to her handkerchief, and her lips trembled as she
wiped her eyes, sniffling sorrowfully and all unheeded by the others.
Frederik took a watch fob from the drawer before he continued his
reading.
"To Mr. Batholommey: my antique watch fob--with profound respect."
The executor rolled the words under his tongue.
Mr. Batholommey rose, bowed graciously, and accepted the watch fob
without looking at it. Then he sat down.
The voice of Fate went on:
"To Colonel Lawton----"
Before Frederik could get any farther, Mrs. Batholommey was again at the
front:
"His _watch fob_? Is that what he left _Henry_? Is that all? His----Why!
_Well!_ I can't believe it! If he had no wish to make our life easier,
at least he should have left something for the church. Oh, Henry!" she
cried in consternation. "Won't the congregation have a crow to pick with
you!"
Frederik no longer made any effort to conceal his pleasure at the part
he had to play. He smiled broadly and maliciously and he was quite
willing that they should all see him smile.
It must be said of Mr. Batholommey that he took his disappointment
rather well. He said nothing at all, and he tried not to show how he
felt. In fact he tried not to _feel_ any resentment toward his late
parishioner. It was one of the hardest moments of his life; but he knew
that as a clergyman he should be able to forgive--and he tried very
hard.
It would have been so comfortable to have a tidy sum to put by for his
old age! He had expected it so confidently! He had flattered and praised
and praised and flattered! And now, after all, he was left high and
dry--with a watch fob to look to for comfort in his declining years! He
would keep his feelings to himself if possible, however. He did not care
to make Frederik's triumph any greater, or his smile any broader on his
account; so he compelled himself to listen to the third part of the
memorandum with an expression of polite interest.
"To my lifelong friend, Colonel Lawton, I leave my most cherished
possession."
The Colonel preened himself. He stuck his thumbs into the armholes of
his vest and wagged his crossed foot complacently. This was to be the
real kernel of the memorandum.
His appearance of security was too much for Mrs. Batholommey.
"Oh! When the church hears----"
She was interrupted by Colonel Lawton:
"I don't know why he was called upon to leave anything to the church,"
he said truculently, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "He gave
it thousands, and only last month he put in chimes. As I look at it, he
wished to give you something he had used--something personal. Perhaps
the miniature and the fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in hell--it's the
_sentiment_!"
He lay back in his chair again as he fairly chewed on the word
'sentiment.' Once more he crossed his legs, and peered at Frederik
through his glasses.
"Drive on, Fred," he ordered.
"To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer book."
As he read, Frederik put one hand into the drawer, and took out a worn
prayer book.
Mr. Batholommey smiled, and chuckled behind his hand, but Colonel Lawton
seemed dazed. His jaw dropped, and he looked helplessly at Frederik and
the others.
"What?" he said in a choking voice. "His prayer book--_me_?"
As in a dream he slowly leaned forward and took it gingerly between two
fingers as one might a June bug--gazing at it in amazed horror and
incredulity the while.
"Is that all?" demanded Mrs. Batholommey.
"That's all," answered Frederik, bowing to Mrs. Batholommey and smiling
radiantly.
Colonel Lawton, still dazed, could only reiterate:
"A prayer book. Me? What for?"
Then he got up slowly.
"Well, I'll be----Here, Parson." As an idea struck him, he turned
quickly toward Mr. Batholommey. "Let's shift--you take the prayer book
and I'll take the old fob!"
Mr. Batholommey smiled and waved away the offered book.
"Thank you," he said smoothly, "I already have a prayer book."
At this retort, the Colonel wilted completely. Drawing his chair close
to the fire he sat down limply and gave himself up to bitter reflection.
Mrs. Batholommey seemed the least able of the three to bear the
shattering of her high hopes. She moved around the room restlessly.
"Well, all I can say is"--(her voice shook and her eyes reproached
Frederik)--"I'm disappointed in your uncle."
No one paid any attention to her remark, each person being engrossed in
his own thoughts. For some moments the air was pregnant with unspoken
invective.