Your uncle was a peculiarly
vindictive man. What he considered a wrong he neither forgot nor
forgave. His son pleaded with him not to put in that final clause. He
offered even to share with you. Your uncle swore he would leave it all
to the stablemen first. This journey was forced upon me, or I should
not have taken it. This is my advice to you: Accept the check, in the
privacy of your room tear it up, or light a cigar with it; that's about
all it's worth. You will feel no little satisfaction in lighting a
cigar with it, that is, if you are anything like me. Think of it! a
thousand dollars to light your cigar. It is an opportunity not to be
missed. When you grow old you will say to your grandchildren: 'Once I
lit a cigar with a thousand-dollar check.' The oldest inhabitant will
be silenced forever; it may become history. And then, too, if there
are spirits, as Scripture says there are, your uncle's will writhe at
the performance. I trust that you will forgive me my part in the
matter. I have taken a fancy to you, and if you will accept my
friendship I shall be happy to accept yours.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39