"That is just what I have been telling you for the last six years. I have invested it carefully, until it has almost doubled itself."
"It would make them very comfortable," continued she thoughtfully.
"Make them very comfortable!" repeated the doctor, throwing his cigar into the grate, and turning suddenly toward her.
"Yes—Claudia and Mrs. Grayson."
"Beulah Benton! are you going insane, I should like to know? Here you are, working hard every day of your life, and do you suppose I shall suffer you to give that legacy (nearly nine thousand dollars!) to support two broken-down fashionables in idleness? Who ever heard of such a piece of business since the world began? I will not consent to it! I tell you now, the money shall not leave my hands for any such purpose."
"I don't want it myself. I never shall touch a dollar of it for my own use," said she resolutely.
"All very fine now. But wait till you get superannuated, or such a cripple with rheumatism that you can't hobble to that schoolhouse, which you seem to love better than your own soul. Wait till then, I say, and see whether some of this money will not be very acceptable."
"That time will never come, sir; never!" answered Beulah, laughing.
"Beulah Benton, you are a simpleton!" said he, looking affectionately at her from beneath his shaggy brows.
"I want that money, sir."