f the new
butler raised in loud altercation with someone whose entrance into the
library he was trying to prevent.

"Get out of my way! I tell you I will go in!" exclaimed an angry voice.

"It's Tod!" cried Mrs. Marsh, rising.

The library door was flung unceremoniously open and in walked Tod,
trying to staunch with his handkerchief the blood which flowed freely
from a cut finger. He was somewhat dishevelled after a lively scrimmage
with the butler who, not recognizing him as a member of the family, had
literally obeyed his master's instructions and attempted to bar the way.
It was a poor welcome home, but he was cheery and good natured as ever.
Kissing his mother boisterously, he said:

"Hallo, _mater_! How are you? Say--that new butler of yours is a
bird--tried to keep me from coming in here to see you. Just think of it!
So I smashed him against the glass door and cut my finger." Looking
around, a broad grin spread over his face. With well acted surprise, he
exclaimed: "Why, what's going on here? Looks like a prayer meeting!"
Nodding familiarly to the lawyer and Mr. Marsh, he called out:
"Hello--Cooley! Hello Jimmy!"

James Marsh, his face pale with suppressed irritation, snapped
impatiently:

"We waited for you all morning. I told the butler to let no one come in.
A disturbance of this kind is most annoying." Turning to the lawyer, he
added: "Now, Mr. Cooley, will you please continue----"

"What are you all doing?" grinned Tod.

"Please be quiet, Tod," said his mother, pulling him by the sleeve.
"Take a chair and listen. Mr. Cooley is reading the will."

"The will?" echoed Tod innocently. "What will?"

"John Marsh's will, of course. Really, Tod, what makes you so stupid?"

Exasperated, inwardly raging, Mr. Marsh made a sign to Mr. Cooley to
proceed with the reading. The lawyer thus urged, resumed. In a loud
voice he repeated:

"_I bequeath to my only brother_----"

[Illustration: "THAT'S NOT JOHN MARSH'S WILL!"]

"That's not John Marsh's will!" cried Tod, again interrupting.

"Not the will!" exclaimed the cousins, aghast.

"Not my brother's will!" cried Jimmy, his face blanching.

"Not the will--what do you mean, sir?" roared Bascom Cooley.

"Just what I say!" replied Tod doggedly. "That scrap of yellow parchment
is only good for the waste-paper basket. John Marsh was married, and has
a daughter living. Before he died he made a new will, leaving every cent
to her!"

CHAPTER VI.