“Three weeks gone ter-morrer since old man Hickey was buried,” returned Cobmore, without glancing around. “Fur all he lived so long alone, you folks’ll find everythin’ neat’s a pin. I’ve bin over twice sence young Lawrence give me charge of it, an’ thar ain’t a thing out of place.”
“Is that Barry Lawrence?” Merriwell asked quickly.
“Yep. Know him?”
“Yes; he’s a Yale man. You remember him, don’t you, Brad? He graduated three years ago.”
“You bet I do,” returned the Texan promptly. “Didn’t he play end on the varsity? Nice chap, too.”
“What relation was he to Mr. Hickey?” Dick inquired.
“Nephy. Folks was sorter surprised when Hickey left everythin’ to him an’ cut out his darter’s husband, Andy Jellison, but I kinder smelled a rat myself, knowin’ that they wan’t on speakin’ terms sence the darter died three years ago come next spring. They do say he treated her like a dog, an’ she wan’t in her grave two months before he up an’ married another woman. Andy done his best to make up with the old man, but it wan’t no use. Reckon he was thinkin’ o’ the spondulicks the old man would leave—he had a tidy little pile besides the place—an’ I s’pose he was arter his share.
“Well, I remember the first time he come for a visit arter the darter died. He driv over to my place from the village an’ put his team up in the barn. Had a couple of grips with him an’ I nachurally thinks he’d want help to git ’em over, but don’t you believe it. Said he’d go by himself. I wan’t so surprised when I happens to lift up one o’ the grips an’ finds it light’s a feather. Couldn’t have bin nothin’ in it at all, though why he wants to lug two empty grips three miles through the woods, goodness knows.
“Howsomever, that was his business, an’ I didn’t ask no questions, though I couldn’t help wonderin’. He starts off about five o’clock, an’ drat my buttons if he wan’t back about sundown, cussin’, swearin’ mad. He was a turrible profane man, was Jellison, but that night he beat the record. He calls Hickey all the names on the calendar, and got so bad I had to shet the kitchen door so Maria wouldn’t hear him, she bein’ a good church member an’ pious.
“When he calms down a bit I finds that the old man wouldn’t let him in the house. Said he never wanted to set eyes on him ag’in, an’ told him to go to the hot place, I reckon. Andy had to stop with me that night, an’ next mornin’ he went back to the city, where he works in a bank.