a place called Wanley. The old
man had begun mining there; there's iron. I've got my ideas about that.
I didn't go into the house; people are there still. Now the income.'

He read his notes: So much in railways, so much averaged yearly from
iron-works in Belwick, so much in foreign securities, so much disposable
at home. Total--

'Stop, Dick, stop!' uttered his mother, under her breath. 'Them figures
frighten me; I don't know what they mean. It's a mistake; they're
leading you astray. Now, mind what I say--there's a mistake! No man with
all that money 'ud die without a will. You won't get me to believe it,
Dick.'

Richard laughed excitedly. 'Believe it or not, mother; I've got my ears
and eyes, I hope. And there's a particular reason why he left no will.
There was one, but something--I don't know what--happened just before
his death, and he was going to make a new one. The will was burnt. He
died in church on a Sunday morning; if he'd lived another day, he'd have
made a new will. It's no more a mistake than the Baptist Chapel is in
the square!' A comparison which hardly conveyed all Richard's meaning;
but he was speaking in agitation, more and more quickly, at last almost
angrily.

Mrs. Mutimer raised her hand. 'Be quiet a bit, Dick. It's took me too
sudden. I feel queer like.'

There was silence. The mother rose as if with difficulty, and drew water
in a tea-cup from the filter. When she resumed her place, her hands
prepared to resume sewing. She looked up, solemnly, sternly.

'Dick, it's bad, bad news! I'm an old woman, and I must say what I
think. It upsets me; it frightens me. I thought he might a' left you a
hundred pounds.'

'Mother, don't talk about it till you've had time to think,' said
Richard, stubbornly. 'If this is bad news, what the deuce would you call
good? Just because I've been born and bred a mechanic, does that say
I've got no common sense or self-respect? Are you afraid I shall go
and drink myself to death? You talk like the people who make it their
business to sneer at us--the improvidence of the working classes, and
such d--d slander. It's good news for me, and it'll be good news for
many another man. Wait and see.'

The mother became silent, keeping her lips tight, and struggling to
regain her calmness. She was not convinced, but in argument with her
eldest son she always gave way, affection and the pride she had in him
aiding her instincts of discretion. In practice she still maintain