“Yes—but if we were to meet people—don’t you know?”
“Well—they’re our carriages, not theirs.” Katharine laughed again. “The only question is whether they’ll belong to the Ralstons or to us. I suppose they’ll all be sold and we shall buy new ones.”
“I don’t see why,” answered Mrs. Lauderdale. “They’re perfectly good carriages, and there are some splendid horses—”
Twenty-five years of rigid economy were not to be forgotten in a day, and Alexander Junior saw with satisfaction that his wife showed no signs of developing any very reprehensible extravagance. But she enjoyed that first drive, lying back in the luxurious carriage with her daughter by her side, and feeling that it all belonged to her, or, at least, that she was privileged to consider that it did, as much as though she had inherited the fortune herself.
Aunt Maggie Bright saw the two in the Park and bent her head rather stiffly. She recognized the carriage and spoke of the meeting to her son that evening.
“They’ve a right to do as they please,” answered Hamilton gravely. “As for the carriages and all the personal belongings, they’d have had them anyway. I should like to know where that other will is, though. If he didn’t destroy it, it’s good now.”
“If it’s in existence, it will turn up amongst the papers one of these days.”
“Unless Alexander gets at them—then it won’t,” said Bright, savagely.
“Perhaps that isn’t quite just, Ham. I don’t think Alexander’s capable of destroying such a thing.”
“Oh—isn’t he! You don’t know him, mother. If you think anything would stand in the way of his defending his millions, you’re very much mistaken. There’s been something very queer about the whole affair. That affidavit wasn’t straight.”