"If I hated lawyers," returned Grey, with a shy smile, "I should not be without a will for four-and-twenty hours."
"Why?" demanded the old man, with a contraction of the brows and a glance of suspicion directed at an imaginary group of lawyers.
"You know, Sir Alexander, lawyers have a special prayer, asking for the management of intestate estates." He raised his eyebrows and smiled archly at the prostrate man.
"I don't understand you, Grey. These doctors, with their fears and their jargon, have confused me. What do you mean?"
For a moment the banker looked at the baronet uneasily. Could it be that already his mind was becoming clouded or torpid? After a moment's observation and thought, Grey decided that the old man was only dazed and tired.
"What I mean, Sir Alexander, is, that in cases where there is no will, the law-costs often consume the whole estate, and always eat up enormously more money than where there is a sound will."
The old man reflected awhile.
"Have you made your own will?" he asked.
"Certainly. I could not rest if I thought what little fortune I may have should, instead of going to my wife, be scattered about in this and that court, in this and that litigation. As I go home the ferry-boat may overturn and I may be drowned, the horse may run away and I may be killed. Making a will has with me no connection with good or bad health. It is a business thing which ought, on the principle of economy, to be done in time. In nothing more than in making a will is it true that a stitch in time saves nine?"
There was a long pause.