It was a check for Frank. His good-natured face looked rather blank. Charley, who seemed interested, sat nursing his knee and listening.
"Could you not recollect if you tried, uncle?"
"I am trying," said the major. "My thoughts are back in the matter now. Let me see—what were the terms of the will? I know I had Eagles' Nest; and—yes—I think I am right—I was also named residuary legatee. Yes, I was. That much I do remember."
Frank's face broke into a smile. "It would be strange if you forgot that, uncle. Try and remember some more."
"Let me see," repeated the major, passing his unoccupied hand over his bald head. "There were several legacies, I know; and I think—yes, I do think, Frank—your name stood first on the list. But, dash me if I can recollect for how much."
"Was it for pounds, hundreds, or thousands?" questioned Frank.
"That's what I can't tell. Hang it all my memory's not worth a rush now. When folks grow old, Frank, their memory fails them."
"I remember your words to me at the time, Uncle Francis: they were that I came in for a good slice."
"Did I? When?"
"When you came back from London, and were telling my aunt about the will. I was present: it was in this very room. 'You come in for a good slice, Frank,' you said, turning to me."