At last they came—the preacher on horseback, in his long coat; Marshall Dean and his wife, in their best attire, followed by the nine young Deans of all ages. And back of all was Dan, in his neat black suit, looking paler and more frail than ever. Into the prim little parlor they all filed, and sat down awkwardly in a line around the room. The preacher remarked upon the weather, Mr. Dean said it was an uncommon warm summer, Mrs. Dean sent Tommy to get her a newspaper to use as a fan.
Just then a horse and cart drove up, and all looked out. It was Aunty Perkins. Why she had come, she knew not, except that Job had sent for her. She trotted in, and, with a little curtsey, said, "How do? Hot in sun. All well?" Next came Tim's father, in a new brown suit and a red tie that matched his hair. Last of all, Tom Reed looked in sheepishly, and seated himself outside the door. All sat in embarrassed silence, which grew painful as the moments went on. Where was the lawyer, and where was Job?
Finally they came—the attorney through the gate and up the path at a brisk pace. Then, dressed in a neat black suit, with black tie and black hat in hand, and looking for all the world as he had years before when he came in on the stage, only older grown, Job came down the stairs and, with a kind welcome, seated himself near the door.
The lawyer adjusted his spectacles and broke the seal of the document in his hand. Hans and Sing and Tony stood in the open door, a picturesque group in the afternoon sunlight. The lawyer rose, looked about, and cleared his throat. The anxious spectators leaned over, breathless. It had come at last! Only a second between them and some substantial remembrance from Andrew Malden.
The will was in the usual form, but it was brief. Slowly, almost haltingly, he read, so that the words fell clearly on each ear. This is what they heard:
"In the name of God, Amen. I, Andrew Malden, a native of Massachusetts, a resident of Grizzly county, State of California, being in clear mind and usual health, do hereby make my last will and testament. I hereby bequeath all my property, real and personal, those lands and buildings and appurtenances thereof situated in the county of Grizzly, all bonds and moneys deposited in the Gold City Bank, to Job Teale, who for many years has lived under my roof and been a son to me. All things that by the grace of God I own, I bequeath to him and his heirs and assigns forever.
(Signed) Andrew Malden."
A stillness almost oppressive filled the room as the last word fell from the lawyer's lips, as the name of the last witness was read.
It was what they had expected—what in all justice was right—but not what they had hoped. All together they rose to go. The preacher was saying, "Mr. Malden, we hope the Lord will bless these riches to your good," Dan was looking as if impressed with the extreme justice of things, when Job arose and motioned them into silence. There he stood in the center, stood and looked into each face.
"Wait, Mr. Lawyer," he said. "I have a word before you go. Neighbors, friends, I have something to say. Fifteen years ago, the man whose last will we have heard to-day carried me, a helpless orphan, across the threshold of yonder door. From that night until now, I have called this home. Fifteen years! What changes they have brought! Dan and I were little boys; now we are men. The joys and sorrows of human life have come to me in these years. This old home has been dear to me; I love every nook and corner of it. These well-worn boards are holy ground. Here Andrew Malden lived; by that lounge he became a changed man; from that old rocker he went home to God. By yonder gate I first met her whom you all knew and loved; to this home, torn and crushed by life's troubles, I have fled like a child at dusk to its mother's arms, and in these rooms God has comforted and strengthened my heart. I love you all. Not always have we seen alike; you have not always loved me; but, some day, we shall know as we are known; some day we shall see face to face.
"I love these old mountains. I came to them a boy; they have made a man of me. I have roamed their forests and climbed their cliffs. Every spot has precious memories. Yes, neighbors, I love the old hills, I love the old home; but to-night I am going far away from them. To-night, before the sun sets, I shall leave the old scenes forever. Here, lawyer, are some papers. Read them when I am gone. This is my will.