THE MATTER OF A WILL
Allen paused a moment, his hands clasped on his knees, his eyes
thoughtfully upon them.
“I have a client,” he said at last. “He’s an old, old man. Though he
retained me a week ago, it was only to-day that I was able to persuade
him to put his last will and testament into writing. Poor fellow, he
seems to have had a horror all his life of making a will. Thought that
the moment he did, it would be the signing of his death warrant.”
In spite of the warm evening breeze Betty shuddered.
“I don’t wonder,” she said. “A will has always seemed a horrid thing to
me.”
“But a very necessary one,” Allen reminded her. “The old fellow has
considerable of this world’s goods and since he can’t hope to take them
with him where he’s going, it’s only sensible to dispose of them justly
before he goes.”
“Oh,” said Betty, pityingly. “Is he dying, Allen?”
The young lawyer nodded soberly.
“And his dying isn’t the most pitiful thing about it,” he said.
“Everybody has to make up his mind to die sometime and he has lived
longer than most. But what worries me,” he paused and the frown
deepened, “is that he has something on his mind that, it seems, he
can’t bring himself to confide to anybody. Even the will that he drew
up to-day isn’t final--or at least, I judged that it wasn’t by the fact
that he told me to come back to-morrow.”
“You think he wants to change his will?” asked Betty, puzzled. “I
wonder why.”
“If I knew that,” said Allen, with a sudden smile, “I’d know
everything, most likely. The other day when he was out of his head--but
there,” he checked himself, drawing himself up short as though he were
about to say too much, “I can’t betray the confidence of a client. Not
that he’s given me his confidence to any marked extent,” he finished
with a rueful smile.
Betty was quiet for a moment, thinking over what he had said. She knew
Allen well enough to be sure that he had not told her everything he
knew. That, as he said, would be to betray the confidence of a client.
There was something very pathetic in the thought of the aged man dying
with something on his conscience, a misdeed possibly, perhaps an
injustice to some innocent person, and unable even in his extremity,
poor stubborn old fellow, to confess.
“Suppose, Allen--” she said suddenly. “Suppose he dies without making a
confession?”
Allen shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s probably what he will do,” he answered. “And in that case the
mystery--if there is one--will die with him.”
“It’s a pity,” said the Little Captain thoughtfully. “I wish we could
do something to help him.”
“Well,” said Allen, turning to her with a queer little smile on his
lips, “it’s just like you to wish that. But if I were you I wouldn’t
pity the old codger too much. I reckon he’s been a pretty hard man in
his day.”
Allen’s lips tightened, and again Betty thought that there was
something more behind his words than he was free to tell her. She saw
also that the matter of this queer old man and his will had taken a
great hold upon him. There surely must be some mystery. Allen was not
one to let himself get wrought up about nothing.
“I like that red thing,” said Allen, suddenly, and Betty, looking at
him, surprised, saw that he meant her dress.
She laughed and made an impudent little face at him.
“Thanks,” she said. “But it isn’t red. It’s American beauty.”
“Same thing,” said he, with masculine indifference to names. “It’s
pretty anyway. I say, Betty,” after a pause, during which Betty’s gaze
had been steadily averted from him, “am I forgiven?”
“For what?” she asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
“For staying away. You know I wouldn’t have done it if I could have
helped it.”
“I know that,” replied Betty, and then, as he leaned closer, went on
hurriedly: “I’ve something to tell you, too. We’re going camping this
summer.”
“We? Whom do you mean by we?” he asked, laughing.
“Whom should I mean?” retorted Betty. “Us Outdoor Girls, of course.”
“Oh, then I’m not invited----”
“If you want to come----”
“Betty----”
“Allen, if you won’t be sensible, I’ll--I’ll have to send you home,
that’s all.”
At which threat Allen subsided, though Betty had an idea it would not
be for long. She hurried on to tell him about the cabin at Rainbow
Lake and the young lawyer was very much interested.
“Ought to be no end of fun,” he said. “I suppose you’ll wear sporting
suits and sit around the campfire at night and fight off the wild
animals----”
“There aren’t any wild animals,” protested Betty.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” disputed Allen, earnestly. “I’ve heard
there are no end of man-eating critters around there. You’ll need some
strong men--one strong man, at least--to protect you.”
“Don’t know any,” retorted Betty, flippantly, at which Allen only
laughed indulgently.
“You just think you don’t,” he said.
And after awhile Mrs. Nelson called down, wanting to know if Allen had
the correct time, and Allen, taking the hint, said good-by--or rather,
he started to say good-by. To be exact, it took Betty just ten minutes
by the clock to shoo him off the porch.
And after he was gone Betty sighed and looked up at the moon.
“It’s just ten-thirty,” she thought resentfully. “They might have let
him stay a little longer!”
As they had agreed, the girls met the next day to make definite
arrangements for their trip. Since the distance was only a few miles to
the upper end of Rainbow Lake and they could go by water all the way,
they decided to go in the _Gem_.
When Allen, a few nights later, heard of their decision he protested
strenuously. Since the day the girls had so nearly collided with the
_General Pershing_ he had had a dread of letting Betty go anywhere in
the motor boat.
However, as the girls had no idea whatever of allowing him to spoil
their plans, they finally talked him down.
“The idea!” said Mollie, indignantly. “If you had seen Betty handle
the boat that day you wouldn’t be afraid to let her go anywhere. I bet
there isn’t one of you boys who could have done as well.”
As the three other boys, as well as Allen, were present, they protested
vehemently, and it was an hour or more before quiet was restored.
However, it was eventually decided that the girls were to have their
way, leaving for Rainbow Lake in about a week. A few days later, the
boys would join them, bringing their tent and camping paraphernalia.
They were all tremendously excited over the plan, and the time they had
set for the start seemed awfully far away. However, as Grace insisted
she could not go a step without the right kind of clothing--she wanted
one of the latest knicker suits--and since she was sure she could get
a smarter outfit in Kayford, a neighboring town, than she could in
Deepdale, the other girls were finally argued into agreeing to the
delay.
“But one thing I do know,” Betty said at last. “If you go to Kayford
for a knicker suit, we’re all going to Kayford too, and for the same
purpose.”
“Suits me,” Grace had drawled. “We can go in Mollie’s car.”
And so it came about that on one fine morning a day or two later the
Outdoor Girls climbed merrily into Mollie’s six and departed for
Kayford.
It was a gorgeous day and the girls’ spirits matched the weather.
It was always fun to go shopping anyway, and under the present
circumstances it promised to be even more fun than usual.
Mollie’s car was running in fine form and it fairly ate up the miles
between Deepdale and Kayford. They glided into the main street well
before noon.
“We’ve plenty of time to shop before lunch,” cried Betty gayly. “And
then we can go to that new little tea shop and get something good. I
think I’ll have some chicken à la king.”
“Hear the child!” sighed Grace. “And it’s one whole hour to lunch time.”
Half of that hour they spent in buying knicker suits that fairly made
them ache for the woods, if only for the joy of wearing them. Then,
when they no longer had any excuse for lingering in the fascinating
shop, they sauntered down Main Street toward the little restaurant of
which Betty had spoken, looking in the store windows as they went.
As they were passing the Woman’s Exchange, Betty suddenly stopped and
uttered a cry of delight.
“Girls,” she cried, going nearer to the show windows, as though drawn
there irresistibly, “look at those embroideries. Did you ever see
anything so perfectly stunning in your lives?”