"It's no lee—it's the post-office, and I came awa' at six this morning. If yer going yonder ye can ask. But ye mun pay me the noo."
"Then giv it to me," said Mrs. Gowdy, and with tremulous fingers she tore open the envelope and read aloud:
"Hope you received letter respecting Mrs. James Gowdy's death and are coming to London immediately. Telegraph reply.—Middlemass."
"Oh, well"—with a sigh of relief—"so it's all right. But sax shillings—to think of it!" and to tell the truth, for the remainder of the drive (such is the force of habit), those poor six shillings had a more prominent position in Jean Gowdy's thoughts than the splendid prospect of thousands of pounds.
The very next forenoon a four-wheeled cab drove up to the office of Middlemass and Son, and from it descended the Gowdy party—who, after a long and protracted altercation with the cabman, dismissed him routed and grumbling, and then proceeded to enter the office, and present themselves to their man of business.
The widow in her decent black, her sons, with clever Scotch faces and the hands of hard-working men—clad in homespun and embarrassment, the daughter gay and complacent, with sparkling eyes and red cheeks, arrayed in a sailor hat and a gown of hunting tartan. Yes, they had all come with one consent to enter on their inheritance. Their papers were duly produced, and found to be in order—marriage and baptismal certificates had been registered in proper form, but the family were not prepared for the law's delays, and certain irritating formalities which must ensue before they could seize upon the Gowdy fortune. Mr. Middlemass soon realised that in Mrs. Andy Gowdy he had to deal with a sharp and capable woman of business. Her mind was clear; her questions were to the point, and she soon laid bare the fact that Miss Chandos was, to all purposes, now living luxuriously in a grand hotel, at their expense!
"She will, of course, leave after the funeral to-morrow," explained the attorney in a tone of apology, "I believe the suite was taken by the week."
For the Gowdys themselves, rooms were engaged at a temperance hotel—a sum of money was advanced for present expenses and mourning, and that night, for the first time in their lives, they dined under the glare of electric light, and were waited upon by brisk Germans.
The funeral of Madame de Godez was a pitiful affair for a woman who had such an immense circle of notable friends. There were only three mourning coaches, three private carriages, and about a dozen cheap wreaths.
The heirs-at-law occupied the first coach (and had never before driven behind a pair of horses). Verona and Mrs. Melville occupied the second vehicle, the doctor and man of business the third; the private carriages were empty!