“Then I think we have covered all the more important provisions,” Barton concluded.
“All?” exclaimed Don. “What do you think I’m going to live on?”
Here was the clash for which Barton had 7 been waiting. His face hardened, and he shoved back his chair a little.
“I am not able to find any provision in the will relating to that,” he answered.
“Eh? But what the deuce––”
For a moment Don stared open-mouthed at the lawyer. Then he reached in his pocket for his cigarettes, selected one with some deliberation, and tapped an end upon the case.
“You said Dad had considerable sentiment,” he observed. “It strikes me he has shown more humor than sentiment.”
Barton was still aggressive. To tell the truth, he expected some suggestion as to the possibility of breaking the will; but if ever he had drawn a paper all snug and tight, it was the one in question.
“Damme,” Pendleton, Sr., had said. “Damme, Barton, if the lad is able to break the will, I’ll rise in my grave and haunt you the rest of your days.”
If the boy wished to test the issue, Barton was ready for him. But the boy’s thoughts seemed to be on other things.