It was a small, black hair trunk, studded with brass nails. Mr. Spencer took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked it. Lifting the cover he exposed to view a collection of woolen clothes-coats, vests, and pants.
“This is your legacy, Herbert,” said the lawyer. “I am afraid you won't find it very valuable. What is this?”
He drew out, and held up to view, a blue cloak of ample proportions.
“Will you try it on?” he said, smiling.
Herbert threw it over his shoulders, and looked at himself in a small seven-by-nine looking-glass which was suspended over the washstand. It came down nearly to his feet.
“I should hardly dare to wear this without alteration,” he said; “but there is a good deal of good cloth in it. Mother can cut a coat and vest out of it for me.”
“Here is a blue coat with brass buttons. I remember your uncle used to wear it to church twenty years ago. Of late years he has not attended, and has had no occasion to wear it. Here is a pair of pantaloons; but they are pretty well worn.”
So they went through the list, finding little of value. The last article was a vest.
“It seems heavy,” said Herbert.
The lawyer took it from him and examined it.