“There is no legacy.”
Mrs Mallison’s breath forsook her, for it might be the quarter of a minute, then returned with renewed force and violence.
“What? Impossible! None? Then why write? A lawyer’s letter costs six and eightpence. There must be a reason. Mary—I insist!”
Mary lifted her colourless eyes, and looked her mother in the face.
“Miss Brewster left me no legacy. She left me her principal. Everything she had. I shall have five hundred a year.”
“God bless my soul!” cried the Major loudly. Teresa flushed scarlet over face and neck, and stared with distended eyes.
“Oh, Mary! I’m glad! How ripping.”
“Ripping, indeed. Is that the best word you can find for your sister’s good fortune?” Mrs Mallison raised her eyes in ecstatic rejoicing to the electric light ornament which decorated the centre of the ceiling. “Thank God that I have lived to see this day! I told papa when we chose her as godmother that it might be for the child’s benefit. Not likely to marry, and a settled income. We thought of your welfare, Mary, in your long clothes and see the result. And I made a point of inviting her once a year. She was devoted to you as a child—you remember the pink corals? but of late with her ill-health we have fallen apart, and she seemed indifferent. Nothing, even on your birthdays. Well! Well! what news! What thankfulness. All things work together. Five—hundred—a—year!” Her large body expanded in beatific realisation. “Five hundred—pounds. It’s marvellous how much a few hundreds mean after necessities have been provided. As I have said a hundred times—after a thousand, every hundred does the work of two... What about a brougham? We have always needed a second carriage. Papa and I are getting too old to drive in the open in winter, and Teresa goes out so much at night. It would be only the initial expense, for Johnson could do the work. He might need a new livery. And the little conservatory opening out of the drawing-room... That has been a long-felt want. So cheerful,—and you could look after the plants, dear. Such agreeable work! ... Five hundred,—about forty pounds a month, ten pounds a week, nearly thirty shillings a day. My dear, what riches! Quite a little millionaire... So apropos too, with a wedding in prospect. It would have been a strain out of a regular income, and one hesitates to break in on capital. Perhaps your rich sister will give you your trousseau, Teresa, who knows! Indeed I feel sure she will wish it. It doesn’t seem suitable for one sister to have so much, and the other nothing. You may not care to halve it, Mary, perhaps halving would be too much, but a hundred a year for Teresa. Oh, certainly a hundred. It is so nice for a young wife to have pin-money of her own... What about a brass tablet in the church? Quite a nice one for forty pounds, and she worshipped there in her youth... We must wear black, of course. Handsome black, only suitable. We could run up to town. Ah, Mary!” her voice grew arch and playful, “if it were not spring, I would remind you of my ambition for sables! Nothing looks so well as handsome black and a sable set. Never mind! Never mind. Christmas is coming! Dear me, quite a Portunatus cap! Only to wish, and the thing appears... Papa, you must tell Mary what you want next!”
Then Mary spoke, and if a peal of thunder had crashed through the sunlit room, the shock could not have been half so great.
“I shall not give,” said Mary slowly, “one penny to anybody. I shall keep every farthing for myself.”