As the lawyer stopped reading there was a pause, and then a rush of voices, congratulations and condolences mingled. That he had made an error in summoning Dr. Jedd and the minister instead of their wives was plain.
The two brothers, who cared nothing for the fruit farm except its cash price and had been too indolent to bother about the matter or go to see their aunt except in fruit time, assumed importance and talked about wounded pride and the injustice of having but one executor. The school superintendent, an Englishman of fifty or so who had received his art training at South Kensington and brought it to market in America, confused by his surroundings, but of course pleased at the gift by which his school benefited, made haste to leave, feeling that he was intruding in a gathering where a family storm was brewing.
“Mebbe there’s something in the tea-pot,” suggested the minister’s wife, hopefully, “else I can’t think she knew her own mind.”
“There’s surely something in it,” echoed Mrs. Dr. Jedd.
The lawyer, who himself had thought this possible, went upstairs, and took down the battered bit of pewter from the best bedroom shelf, where it had remained since the day Mrs. Lane had placed it there at Aunt Jimmy’s request, opened it, shook it, and held it toward the eager group,—it was absolutely empty!
Mrs. Lane stretched out her hand for the legacy, but her husband grasped her arm and asserting himself for the first time in his married life, said: “Lauretta Ann, don’t you tech it; it’ll go down in the swamp hole with the other trash for all of you. I’ll not have you a-harbourin’ a viper. I’ll do my lawful duty, but, by crickey, I’ll not have you put upon no more.”
This very ambiguous speech so impressed the hearers that it was reported that “Joshua Lane wasn’t tied to Lauretta’s apron-strings and could hold his own equal to anybody,” which had been seriously doubted, while the news was a surprise and disappointment to every one but Mrs. Slocum, who said, “Dough! I told you so,”—and actually cut a big slice of cake for Hope Snippin to take home for tea.
As for Lammy he seemed dazed for a while, and then set to work daily with his father on the fruit farm, so that he might earn the tickets to send to Bird when hot weather and the time for her visit came. His mother noticed that he did not gaze about as much as usual, and, while he was picking berries for market, he said to himself, “I’ll snake a root of those red pineys for Bird anyhow before the auction, ’long in November, and maybe before then something ’ll turn up.”