"Whatever can the man be thinking of! I really cannot understand a clergyman being so wicked. Perhaps I ought to write to the bishop."
"He's a lawyer, Aunt," George shouted.
"Now why didn't you tell me that before?" said Miss Yard crossly. "Of course, lawyers will do anything. The people who did my father's business were the only honest lawyers I ever came across. This house belongs to me, and you shall stay here as long as you like. If you'll find my cheque-book I will write to this man at once—I mean, if you will bring my pen, you shall have a little present, for you are always so thoughtful. I am so sorry your poor dear mother didn't leave you much."
George had not time to correct her error; besides, it was useless. He brought her writing materials after a vain search for the cheque-book, for Nellie had taken possession of that, and said, "I don't want to confuse you, Aunt, but I suppose you will be leaving Nellie something?"
"Everything I have," replied Miss Yard earnestly. "I am leaving her the house, and all the furniture, my clothes and jewels, and as much money as I can save. I could not rest if I thought dear Nellie would be left unprovided for. You will look after Nellie, won't you? I should be so pleased if you would adopt her as your daughter."
"I'm not quite old enough," George stammered.
"Nonsense, you look quite elderly," said Miss Yard encouragingly. "And Nellie is such a child."
"If I had been younger I might have thought about marrying her," said George awkwardly.
"Now that would have been a nice idea! What a pity it is you are not forty years younger."
"You are thinking of someone else," cried George despairingly.