CHAPTER XXXIX.

MAKING A WILL.

"Mr. Coleman," said Trimble, with suavity, "this is my wife, Mrs.
Trimble."

The lawyer bowed.

"I believe you wish to execute a will, Mrs. Trimble?" said he.

"Yes," answered the poor mother, in a spiritless tone.

Various questions were asked in relation to the property, and then the
lawyer seated himself at a table and wrote the formal part of the will.

"I understand you wish to leave the entire property to your husband?"
he said, in a tone of inquiry.

"In the event of my son's death," interpolated Mrs. Trimble.

"But, my dear, he is dead," said Abner Trimble, with a slight frown.

"I would prefer to have it expressed in this way."

"I am sure," continued Trimble, annoyed, "that Mr. Coleman will
consider it unnecessary."

"I see no objections to it," said the lawyer. "Of course, the son being
dead, it won't count."

"Mr. Coleman," explained Mrs. Trimble, "I have no reason to doubt my
poor son's death, but I didn't see him die, and there may have been a
mistake."

"How can there be?" demanded Trimble, impatiently. "Didn't my friend
Floyd see him drowned?"

"He may have been mistaken. Besides, he only says he did not see him
after the boat upset. He may have been picked up by some other boat."

For the first time Trimble and Floyd saw the flaw in the story, which
had been invented by Trimble himself.

"Was there any boat near, Floyd?" asked Trimble, winking significantly.

"No, sir; not within a quarter of a mile."

"Edward could swim. He may have reached one by swimming."

This was news to Trimble. He had not been aware that his stepson could
swim.

"Under the circumstances," said the lawyer, "I think Mrs. Trimble is
right."

Trimble looked panic-stricken. Knowing that Edward Granger was still
living he recognized the fact that such a will would do him no good.

"If he were alive he would let us know," he said, after a pause.

"Probably he would."

"So that we may conclude he is dead."

"It might be stipulated that if the missing son does not appear within
three years from the time the will is made he may be regarded as dead?"
suggested the lawyer.

"One year would be sufficient, it seems to me," put in Trimble.

"I would rather make it three," said his wife.

Abner Trimble looked disappointed, but did not dare object.

The lawyer continued to write.

"I understand, then," he observed, "that you bequeath all your estate
to your husb