"I don't know why he was called upon to leave anything to the church," he said truculently, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "He gave it thousands, and only last month he put in chimes. As I look at it, he wished to give you something he had used—something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the fob ain't worth three whoops in hell—it's the sentiment!"
He lay back in his chair again as he fairly chewed on the word 'sentiment.' Once more he crossed his legs, and peered at Frederik through his glasses.
"Drive on, Fred," he ordered.
"To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer book."
As he read, Frederik put one hand into the drawer, and took out a worn prayer book.
Mr. Batholommey smiled, and chuckled behind his hand, but Colonel Lawton seemed dazed. His jaw dropped, and he looked helplessly at Frederik and the others.
"What?" he said in a choking voice. "His prayer book—me?"
As in a dream he slowly leaned forward and took it gingerly between two fingers as one might a June bug—gazing at it in amazed horror and incredulity the while.
"Is that all?" demanded Mrs. Batholommey.
"That's all," answered Frederik, bowing to Mrs. Batholommey and smiling radiantly.