“Yes. I have seen them many times. Mother read me parts of them, too, sometimes. He wrote beautifully, father did. Mother always kept those letters in that old workbox with the green velvet lining; the one the will speaks about. It was her treasure box, and it was always kept locked. I remember there were three or four daguerreotypes there, and some clippings from newspapers and such things.”
“She was careful to take the letters out,” mused Mr. Morris.
“Maybe she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get well. I suppose she destroyed the letters. She wouldn’t want anyone reading them afterward, you see, mother wouldn’t. Of course, it might be that her mind wandered a little toward the end and she thought she was really doing something for Will when she put his name on the package.”
“But Cousin Joe says the will was made almost a year before she died,” objected Mr. Morris. “I guess her mind was all right then. Well, it’s plumb funny.” He arose from the table with a sigh. “That’s what it is, plumb funny.” He pulled out a big silver watch and looked at it. “Son, I guess it’s time we were hiking along.”
Willard pushed his chair back disconsolately and arose. He was seventeen, rather tall for his age, and had strong, broad shoulders like his father’s, or as his father’s had been before constant bending over desk and bench had stooped them. The boy had a good-looking, frank face and nice eyes, but just at present the brown eyes were gloomy and the face expressed discontent.
“Better take those envelopes before they get lost, Will,” counseled his mother. He regarded them with a scowl of contempt.
“I don’t want the old things,” he muttered as he left the room. Mr. Morris, looking after him, frowned and then sighed. Mrs. Morris echoed the sigh.
“I guess this settles it, Jenny,” said Mr. Morris, tucking the Audelsville Morning Times in his pocket. “If I could get hold of the money any way, he should have it, but I don’t know where to turn for it, and that’s a fact.”
“Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Morris as her husband stooped over her chair to kiss her. “There’s almost a year yet and something may turn up. You never can tell.”