In Transition.
It was a hard fight, and the temptation was strong upon him to hide the truth. Humphrey would be content—he did not want to take his place; and he sat opposite to him now in the study, upon the very edge of the chair. Oh, it was ridiculous that he should have to give the place up to such a man—one whom he had to order before he could get him to sit down in his presence. And even when he felt that his mind was made up, and he was stoically determined to do that which was right, the rightful heir would keep upsetting his plans.
“You see, it would be so foolish, Master Dick.”
“I can’t help that, Humphrey. You must have your rights. I will not be a party to the imposture.”
“Hadn’t you better see a lawyer about it all?”
To be sure. There was Pratt—a barrister—he might give good advice.
Richard rang the bell and a servant came. “Ask Mr Pratt to be kind enough to step here.”
“If you please, sir, Mr Pratt’s gone, sir. I put his letter on your table. Yes, there it is, sir.”
Richard started.
“The rats desert the sinking ship,” he muttered; and then blushed for his doubt of his friend.