Taking the drawer, with the two wills in it, he put it back in its place, locking it and the bureau safely as before. And then he went up to bed to "sleep upon it," and try and get back his recollection as to an item that one of those wills contained.
Morning came. One of the same hot and glorious days that the last few had been: and the window was thrown open to the sun. It shone on the breakfast-table. The children, in their somewhat dilapidated attire, but with fresh, fair, healthy faces and happy tempers, sat round it, eating piles of bread-and-butter, and eggs ad libitum. Mrs. Raynor, in the faded muslin gown that she had worn the day before, presided over a dish of broiled ham, whilst Alice poured out the coffee. It seemed natural to Mrs. Raynor that she should take the part, no matter at what, that gave her the least trouble: kind, loving, gentle, she always was, but very incapable.
The major was not present. The major liked to lie in bed rather late in a morning; which was not good for him. But for his indolent habits, he need not have been quite so stout as he was. Frank Raynor glanced at the bureau, opposite to him as he sat, and wondered whether his uncle had recollected more about the one desired item of the will within it during his sleep.
"Has Uncle Francis had a good night, aunt?" asked Frank, who was inwardly just as impatient as he could be for news, and perhaps thought he might gather some idea by the question.
"My dear, he always sleeps well," said Mrs. Raynor. "Too well, I think. It is not good for a man of his age."
"How can a man sleep too well, mamma?" cried one of the children.
"Well, my darling, I judge by the snoring. Poor papa snores dreadfully in his sleep."
"Will he be long before he's down, do you suppose, Aunt Mary?"
"I hear him getting up, Frank. He is early this morning because you are here."
And, indeed, in a minute or two the major entered: his flowery silk dressing-gown—all the worse for wear, like the children's clothes—flowing around him, his hearty voice sending forth its greeting. For some little time the children kept up an incessant fire of questions; Frank could not get one in. But his turn came.