I was
listless. The head overseer received the munificent sum of $50,000; to
the butler, the housekeeper and the cook he gave $10,000 each. I began
to grow interested. He was very liberal to his servants. Several
other names were read, and my interest assumed the color of anxiety.
When the lawyer stopped to unfold the last flap, I spoke.
"And where in the world do I come in?"
"In the sense you understand, you do not come in."
I stared at him in amazement. "I don't come in?" I repeated vaguely.
"Ah," reaching down for my hat, "then I go out, as it were;" as
brilliant as a London yellow fog. "What the devil does all this mean?"
I started to rise.
"Wait!" he commanded. "'To my nephew, John Winthrop, I bequeath the
sum of $1,000 to be presented to him in person immediately after this
will is probated, and with the understanding that he shall make no
further demand upon my son and heir in the future.' That is all,"
concluded the lawyer, folding the document. "I have the check in my
pocket."
"Keep it," said I, rising. A hot flush of indignation swept over me.
I understood.
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