“Do you mean Nave?” retorted the Squire, who could not for the life of him help having a fling at Caromel once in a way. “He has been your lawyer of late years.”
“You know I don’t mean Nave; and if I did mean him he could not come,” said poor Nash. “I mean our family lawyer, Crow. Since I discarded him for Nave he has turned the cold shoulder upon me. When I’ve met him in the street at Evesham, he has either passed me with a curt nod or looked another way. I would rather have Crow than anybody, for he’d be true, I know, if he could be induced to come.”
“I’ll see about it,” said the Squire.
“And you’ll be executor, won’t you, Todhetley? you and Duffham.”
“No,” said the Squire. “And what sort of a will are you going to make?”
“I should like to be just,” sighed Nash. “As just as I know how. As just as I can be under the unfortunate circumstances I am placed in.”
“That you have placed yourself in, Caromel.”
“True. I think of it night and day. But she ought to be provided for. And there’s the boy!”
“Who ought to be?”
“My second wife.”