"I wish Wynne would come," said her husband, glad to change the subject, particularly as he felt that he had failed to be very impressive. "It'll be beastly inconvenient if we miss that train," he finished, glancing again at his watch.
"And another thing," said Mrs. Wickham, turning sharply as she reached the end of the room, "I don't trust that Miss Marsh. She looks as if she knew what was in the will."
"I don't for a moment suppose she does. Aunt Louisa wasn't the sort of person to talk."
"Nevertheless, I'm sure she knows she's been left something."
"Oh, well, I think she has the right to expect that. Aunt Louisa led her a dog's life."
Mrs. Wickham made an angry gesture. "She had her wages and a comfortable home. If she didn't like the place, she could have left it," she said pettishly. "After all," she went on in a quieter tone, "it's family money. In my opinion, Aunt Louisa had no right to leave it to strangers."
"I don't think we ought to complain if Miss Marsh gets a small annuity," said her husband soothingly. "I understand Aunt Louisa promised her something of the sort when she had a chance of marrying a couple of years ago."
"Miss Marsh is still quite young. It isn't as if she had been here for thirty years," protested Mrs. Wickham.
"Well, anyway, I've got an idea that Aunt Louisa meant to leave her about two hundred and fifty a year."
"Two hundred and fif—— But what's the estate amount to; have you any idea?"