It seemed that more than a year before, Mr. John Gumswith, of Melbourne, Australia, had died, leaving a considerable fortune to friends he had made there and with whom he had lived for more than a dozen years. But he had left a legacy, too, "to any son that my brother, Alexander Carringford, of Cleveland, Ohio, U. S. A., may have had who has been duly christened 'Gumswith' after me, to perpetuate my family name."
"Of course," said Mr. Payne, dryly, "nobody challenged the will, and so it was probated. I should, myself, doubt the good sense of a man who would fasten such an ugly name upon a boy whom he had never seen, and who never did him any harm—"
"Mr. Payne," breathed Gummy, when he heard this, and earnestly, "for ten thousand dollars I'll let anybody call me anything he wants to. Names don't break any bones."
At that Mr. Payne and Mr. Day laughed louder than they had before. But Janice knew that Gummy was not selfish, nor did he think so much of money. He was delighted that he could help his mother in her sore need.
"At any rate," said Mr. Payne, "the administrator of Mr. John
Gumswith's estate had his legal adviser communicate with
Cleveland lawyers; and they traced the Carringford family to
Napsburg. Then I was requested to find them, and—they have
found me!" and he
smiled.
"I congratulate you, madam. Of course, the courts will allow a proper amount to be used by you for Gumswith's support."
"I guess not!" said Gummy. "I'm almost supporting myself—am I not, Mother? The money's for you and the children."
"Oh, no, Gumswith, I—I cannot use your fortune," cried the mother quickly.
"I have not yet finished," resumed the lawyer, with a queer smile. "The boy has been left two thousand pounds for his name. The father receives a thousand pounds, payable either to him, or, if he be dead, to his widow. So you see there will be another five thousand dollars coming to you, Mrs. Carringford."
At that, Mrs. Carringford for the first time lost control of herself. She hugged Gummy and sobbed aloud.