“I suppose,” said he, “father left no will?”
“Oh yes, he did,” said Humility, and produced it: a single sheet of foolscap signed on her wedding day. It gave her all her husband’s property absolutely—whatever it might be.
“Well,” said Taffy, “I’m glad. I suppose there’s enough for you to rent a small cottage, while I look about for work?”
“Who talks about your finding work? You will go back to Oxford, of course.”
“Oh, shall I?” said Taffy, taken aback.
“Certainly; it was your father’s wish.”
“But the money?”
“With your scholarship there’s enough to keep you there for the four years. After that, no doubt, you will be earning a good income.”
“But—” He remembered what had been said about the lace-money, and could not help wondering.
“Taffy,” said his mother, touching his hand, “leave all this to me until your degree is taken. You have a race to run and must not start unprepared. If you could have seen his joy when the news came of the demy-ship!”