"What a capital stroke!" thought Mr. Boxall. "I've surely got that nonsense out of his head now. He'll never think of it more. I was country-bred."
"Thank you, old friend," said Mr. Worboise, quietly, and entered his own name in succession.
The will was soon finished, signed, and witnessed by two of Mr. Worboise's clerks.
"Now what is to be done with it?" asked Mr. Worboise.
"Oh, you take care of it for me. You have more storage—for that kind of thing, I mean, than I have. I should never know where to find it."
"If you want to make any alteration in it, there's your box, you know."
"Why, what alteration could I want to make in it?"
"That's not for me to suppose. You might quarrel with me though, and want to strike out my name."
"True. I might quarrel with my wife too, mightn't I, and strike her name out?"