ing slowly up and down the room; and several legal-looking gentlemen,
friends of his, were conversing and smiling among themselves.

Mr. Dinks stopped in his walk, and, leaning upon the table with the tips
of two fingers and the thumb of his left hand, he thrust the right hand
into his waistcoat, by the side of the ruffle of his shirt, as if he were
about to address the house upon a very weighty question.

"In accordance," said he, with an air of respect and resignation, "with
the wishes of the late Christopher Burt, as expressed in a paper found in
his secretary drawer after his decease, I am about to open his will."

The Honorable Mr. Dinks cleared his throat. Mrs. Fanny Newt Dinks turned
back from the window, and conversation ceased. All eyes were fixed upon
the speaker, who became more pigeon-breasted every moment. He took out
his glasses and placed them upon his nose, and slowly surveyed the
company. He then drew a sealed paper from his pocket, clearing his throat
with great dignity as he did so:

"This is the document," said he, again glancing about the room. At this
point Hiram stepped gently in, and stood by the door.

Mr. Dinks proceeded to break the seal as if it had been sacramental
bread, and with occasional looks at the groups around him, opened the
document--shook it--creased it back--smoothed it--and held it carefully
in the attitude of reading.

When the audience had been sufficiently impressed with this ceremony, and
with a proper conviction of the fact that he of all other men had been
selected to reveal the contents of that important paper to mankind, he
began, and read that, being of sound mind and body, etc., etc.,
Christopher Burt, etc., etc., as an humble Christian, and loving the old
forms, gave his body to the ground, his soul to his God, in the hope of a
happy resurrection, etc., etc.; and devised and bequeathed his property,
etc., etc., in the manner following, to wit; that is to say:

At this point Mr. Dinks paused, and blew his nose with profound gravity.
He proceeded:

"_First_. I give to my housekeeper, Jane Simcoe, the friend of my
darling daughter Mary, and the life-long friend and guardian of my
dear grand-daughter, Hope Wayne, one thousand dollars per annum, as
hereinafter specified."

Mrs. Simcoe's face did not change; nobody moved except Alfred Dinks, who
changed the position of his legs, and thought within himself--"By Jove!"

"_Second._ I give to Almira Dinks, the daughte