"Yes, there must have been SOMETHING," said her mother.
"Of course, there's his share of the unsettled and unfinished business of the firm," admitted Frank.
"How much will that be?" persisted Mildred.
"I can't tell, offhand," said Frank, with virtuous reproach. "My mind's been on—other things."
Henry Gower's widow was not without her share of instinctive shrewdness. Neither had she, unobservant though she was, been within sight of her son's character for twenty-eight years without having unconfessed, unformed misgivings concerning it. "You mustn't bother about these things now, Frank dear," said she. "I'll get my brother to look into it."
"That won't be necessary," hastily said Frank. "I don't want any rival lawyer peeping into our firm's affairs."
"My brother Wharton is the soul of honor," said Mrs. Gower, the elder, with dignity. "You are too young to take all the responsibility of settling the estate. Yes, I'll send for Wharton to-morrow."
"It'll look as though you didn't trust me," said Frank sourly.
"We mustn't do anything to start the gossips in this town," said his wife, assisting.
"Then send for him yourself, Frank," said Mildred, "and give him charge of the whole matter."