Troy weekly news. (Troy, Idaho) 1897-1933, 1905-12-01
CHAPTER XXI.

man. eagerly. Let us get to work. Oh,
you waste half the morning; let us get
on. AT this rate" he sighed, 1--WE shall
take months before get back the prop
erty."
There will be no trade this morning,
uncle" David replied, standing in the
doorway. 1t was week after ! had told
him the truth. He had been turning 1t
over in his mind In the interval.
why notf David, If you were near
ly seventy you would be anxious to get
on; you would not shilly-shally over
single bit Of paper. Let US get on, Da-
vid. oh, you've got all the power now,
and / am in your hands. I won't grum-
BILE, David. No, take your own time,
my boy; take your own time"
The poor old man was strangely al
tered In four or five weeks, that he
should thus humble himself before his
nephew. But David had all the power so
long as he had any Of those coupons left.
you little thought when came here
that | was going to give you so much
trouble, did you, Uncle Daniel2 You
thought you had the whip hand over me
always, didn't your But you see, first
the fall from your pony, then the loss Of
your papers, then the stroke, then my
coming home and finding those papers
all part Of the judgmsntt-and now
there's more TO follow"
what more2 Oh, David, what more p
the helpless old man only groaned.
To-day, uncle, l have come to talk
about my aunt's will. VIII Nethercote
told me. You did not. You thought that
as soon as our little business was finish
/ M
back any more. You thought you would
keep the money. did your Not so, uncle;
not sol'
Il thought you would never find 1t
out, David" Mr.. Leighan confessed, with
somewhat surprising candor. II soon
found that you knew nothing about 1t,
and that you never go about and talk;
and | was pretty certain that you would
never find out. Well, now you know,
what difference does it make2 You are
no nearer the money"
I'VE shall see. My aunt might just
as well have left 1t to me as to you.
To be sure, I never thought she had half
no much. She began with a thousand.
She must have pinched and saved She
left 1t to Mary, on the condition Of her
marrying with your consent; and, il not,
the money was to go to me. And If
was dead. the win said nothing SO you
thought you could stick to the money.
Uncle, you're foxy onel You ought to
be in the States, and thirty years young
er. There you would find yourself at
home, with plenty of opportunity. Well.
1 am wiser now than I was. And see
now, uncle. l don't mean to 20 away
until this question Is settled. What are
you going to doY'
"Why should tell your
keep It to yourself then. will tell
you what you thought you were going to
do; I've worked It all out. First, If you
let George and Mary get married before
the law lets you take 6ldcote you will
lose Sidcote." He began, In his slow
way. to tick of his points upon his fin
gers. 'rhat's the first thing. After
you have got Sldcote, you will be still
loath to let the money CO. and you will
keep Mary waiting on. You think that
shall soon go. Then you will keep the
money as long as you live. But suppose
they were to marry without your consent,
all the money comes to incomes to me-
That sticks. doesn't IT'D You can let
them marry now-and you will lose Sid
cote. you can let them marry after you
have got Sidcote; and you will have to
pay up; If you keep on refusing your con
sent, you can keep the money as long as
you like-unless they marry without
Then you've got to give 1t to me- You've
had 0 taste of me already"
He waited little His uncle said
nothing, but watched him from under
his long, white eyebrows-nOt contempt
uously, as on the first interview after his
return, but with the respect due to the
strength of the situation.
Very well, thea; you would rather
give that money to Mary than to me.
But you would like to get Sidcote; you
hate the thought of giving it to me, you
intended to keep it yourself. Yet there
In no way out Of 1t II you want Sidcote.
Perhaps you think you would give 1t to
Mary, after you have got Sidcote But
suppose she marries before2 Then you
would be obliged to give 1t all to me-"
go on, David; perhaps you are going
to propose something"
81 have been thinking things over, I'M
Gle. You are getting old. you may die
any day; then Mary would be free. 1t
is true that she might marry tomorrow,
In which case l should be entitled to ev-
erything. But | don't think she would
be such fool. II | were Mary, should
walt You are seventy now, and you've
lost the use Of your legs. You can't last
very long. l should wait, If 1 were
Mary. Yes; 1t might be year or two;
II couldn't be longer"
His uncle heard without any emotion
this argument In favor of his approach
Ing demise-country people use plainness
OF speech about such matters-but he
felt himself very far from dying, as mas
terful men always do up to the very end.
swell, David. supposing that what you
say Is common sense, what next1 II
Mary marries at once she is a fool, and
then have you to reckon with. There
Is a good bit outstanding on the old ac-
count. and l don't suppose there would