“No,” she answered, reluctantly; “papa does not approve of my giving Mr. Wayne the money; but, of course, it must be done. It was Uncle Richard’s wish.”
“Ahem! Excuse me, Miss Editha, but how old are you?” Mr. Felton asked, reflectively.
“I was twenty the twentieth of November, but——”
“Then you will not be of age until the twentieth of next November. I am sorry to disappoint you; but since this bequest was not included in the will of Mr. Forrester, and you are under age, you can convey no property to any one without Mr. Dalton’s sanction.”
Editha’s face was very sad and perplexed.
“So papa told me himself,” she sighed. “Is there no way, Mr. Felton, that I can give Earle this money without his signing the papers?”
“I am afraid not. He is your natural guardian, and everything will have to be submitted to his approval, at least until the twentieth of next November, nearly a year.”
“But Uncle Richard made me promise that I would give it to Mr. Wayne just as soon as his time expired, and I must do it,” Editha said, almost in tears.
She had hoped that Mr. Felton could find a way to help her out of this trouble.
“The law is a hard master sometimes,” he said, sympathizing with her evident distress; “but I will make out the papers as you desire, and perhaps we can advise and prevail upon your father to do what is right on Christmas Day.”