“Not for people who know us, Mr. Sturgeon,” said Stella. “Kate and I never did anything alike all our days. I may not be as good as Kate in some things, but I am stronger than she is in being determined to stick by what is right. I would not interfere with papa’s will for all the world! I should think it would bring a curse on me. I have got children of my own, and that makes me go much deeper into things than an unmarried young woman like Kate can be supposed to do. Fancy Charlie, our boy, turning on us and saying, You made mincemeat of grandpapa’s will, why should I mind about yours? That is what I could not look forward to—it would make me perfectly wretched,” Stella said. She stood up, every inch of her height, with her head tossed back full of matronly and motherly importance; but the force of the situation was a little broken by a muffled roar of laughter from Sir Charles, who said—
“Go it, Stella! You’re going to be the death of me,” under his breath.
“My husband laughs,” said Lady Somers with dignity, “because our boy is a very little boy, and it strikes him as absurd; but this is precisely the moment when the mind receives its most deep impressions. I would not tamper with dear papa’s will if even there was no other reason, because it would be such a fearfully bad example for my boy.”
“I waive the question, I waive the question,” cried Mr. Sturgeon. “I will talk it over with the other executor; but in the meantime I hope you will reconsider what you have said on the other subject. There’s the servants and there is poor old Bob.”
“Oh, the servants! As they’re leaving, and a good riddance, give them fifty pounds each and be done with them,” Stella said.
“And Bob Tredgold?”
“I never heard of that person; I don’t believe in him. I think you have been taken in by some wretched impostor.”
“Not likely,” said Mr. Sturgeon. “I have known him, poor fellow, from a boy, and a more promising boy I can tell you than any other of his name. He is a poor enough wretch now. You can have him here, if you like, and judge of him for yourself.”
“Stella,” said Sir Charles, pulling his wife’s dress.
“Oh, Charlie, let me alone with your silly suggestions. I am sure Mr. Sturgeon has been taken in. I am sure that papa——”