Presently Ben Opp looked at his watch.
“See here,” he interrupted, “that boat may be along at any time. We’d better come to some decision about the estate.”
D. Webster ran his fingers through his hair, which stood in valiant defense of the small bald spot behind it.
“Yes, yes,” he said; “business is [p29] business. I’ll have to be off myself the very first thing in the morning. This funeral couldn’t have come at a more unfortunate time for me. You see, my special territory—”
But Ben saw the danger of another bolt, and checked him:
“How much do you think the old house is worth?”
D. Webster drew forth his shiny note-book and pencil and made elaborate calculations.
“I should say,” he said, as one financier to another, “that including of the house and land and contents of same, it would amount to the whole sum total of about two thousand dollars.”
“That is about what I figured,” said Ben; “now, how much money is in the bank?”
D. Webster produced a formidable packet of letters and papers from his inside pocket and, after some searching, succeeded in finding a statement, which set forth the fact that the Ripper County Bank held in trust one thousand dollars, [p30] to be divided between the children of Mary Opp Moore at the death of her husband, Curtis V. Moore.