The dog, a bright little terrier, came trotting into the library He saluted the company briskly with his tail, not excepting Mr. Mool. No growl, or approach to a growl, now escaped him. The manner in which he laid himself down at Mrs. Gallilee’s feet completely refuted her aspersion on his temper. Ovid suggested that he might have been provoked by a cat in the conservatory.
Meanwhile, Mr. Mool turned over a page of the Will, and arrived at the clauses relating to Carmina and her guardian.
“It may not be amiss,” he began, “to mention, in the first place, that the fortune left to Miss Carmina amounts, in round numbers, to one hundred and thirty thousand pounds. The Trustees—”
“Skip the Trustees,” said Mrs. Gallilee.
Mr. Mool skipped.
“In the matter of the guardian,” he said, “there is a preliminary clause, in the event of your death or refusal to act, appointing Lady Northlake—”
“Skip Lady Northlake,” said Mrs. Gallilee.
Mr. Mool skipped.
“You are appointed Miss Carmina’s guardian, until she comes of age,” he resumed. “If she marries in that interval—”
He paused to turn over a page. Not only Mrs. Gallilee, but Ovid also, now listened with the deepest interest.