Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart.
“She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of her property—some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, and her estate at Scarford—to him. But last February it appears that he and she had a falling out. He—Mr. Hungerford—is, so I am told, a good deal of a sport—ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was grouchy—er—not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand dollars in cash. The balance—” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,—“the balance,” he said, “one hundred thousand in money and securities, and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and those of the firm, should you desire legal advice.”
Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were characteristic.
“My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I—I—my land of love! And only this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!”
“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!”
Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he observed, with condescension.
“We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!”
“A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! Yes, and live there! Oh—oh, Daniel! I—I don't know why I'm doing it, but I—I believe I'm going to cry.”
Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her shoulder.
“Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I—I'm goin' to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!”