cross it
only this morning."

Both Mr. Batholommey and Colonel Lawton tried to conceal their
excitement.

"I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman," announced
Colonel Lawton, "but he always tore 'em up."

Then, throwing back his head and peering at Frederik through his
spectacles:

"May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?"

"Certainly," answered Frederik carelessly. "Help yourself. Pastor, will
you have some?"

Colonel Lawton poured out a glass of brandy and offered it to Mr.
Batholommey, then helped himself with alacrity. In the roll of thunder
which came at that moment, no one heard the footsteps of Mrs.
Batholommey, as she entered from the "front parlour."

The tableau that met her vision caused her to give a little shriek as
she stopped short, and gazed with horror-struck eyes at her husband and
his brandy glass.

"Why, _Henry_! _What_ are you doing? Are your feet wet?"

Mr. Batholommey did not get a drink every day, and this one was much too
nearly his to be relinquished now. It was not a case for self-denial.
It was not a case where it was necessary to be a good example for any
one. Therefore the pastor gave place to the husband for a moment, and
when Mrs. Batholommey repeated:

"Are your feet wet, Henry?"

He answered with decision:

"No, Rose, they're _not_. I want a drink and I'm going to _take_ it.
It's a bad night."

Mrs. Batholommey said no more, but closing her mouth tightly, turned
away with lifted eyebrows and downcast eyes, reproachful indignation
bristling at every point.

Her husband, well pleased at his little victory, smacked his lips with
enjoyment; returned the now empty glass to the Colonel and, rubbing his
hands together, went toward the fireplace. Mrs. Batholommey, her
indignation quickly forgotten, joined him there and sat down beside him.
Colonel Lawton, hastily replacing decanter and glasses on the table,
also drew up a chair in front of the fire--and waited.

CHAPTER XI

THE LEGACIES

Frederik, glancing at the backs of the three eager, huddled figures
crouching almost literally in the fireplace, smiled again to
himself--and allowed them to wait.

Finally, Colonel Lawton could stand it no longer. Still with his back to
the heir, and his eyes toward the fire, he cried:

"Well, go ahead, Frederik."

No response. Mr. Batholommey tried next.

"I knew your uncle would remember his friends and his charities," he
said smugly. "He gave it i