“You g-go on thinkin’ so,” says Mark. “We couldn’t ask anythin’ b-better.”
We went on, and when we were out of earshot Mark says: “That reminds me, I want to go up to Lawyer Jones. I w-w-want to know about Mr. Wigglesworth’s w-w-will. Folks’ll want to know in the next Trumpet, t-too.”
“All right,” says I. “I don’t mind sayin’ I’m a mite curious, myself.”
So up we went.
“Ah,” says Lawyer Jones, “what can I do for you, my young friends? Are you—ah—representing the press to-day?”
“Y-yes,” says Mark. “We came to find out if there was anything new to the Wigglesworth b-business. Or if you’d tell us about the w-w-will.”
“Nothing new,” says Lawyer Jones. “I can’t find out a thing about that boy, and he can’t tell me anything that will throw the least light on why he was in Henry Wigglesworth’s house. Seems he’s been kept alone most of his life—without folks, anyhow. Pretty well looked after, I guess, though. Been to one boarding-school after another ever since he can remember—cheap ones. Didn’t know who paid his bills. Lonely little customer. Not a coul in the world ever stood to him in the position of father or guardian.”
“Interestin’,” says Mark. “Who’s stayin’ there with the boy?”
“Mr. Wigglesworth’s man-of-all-work. Jethro’s his name.”
“What?” says Mark in a tone that made me jump.