<h2><SPAN name="page63"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>VII.</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Nan May</span> rose another woman in the
morning; for there was work before her. The children
marvelled to see her so calm and so busy, so full of thought for
the business in hand, so little occupied with sorrowful
remembrance. The old man, prudent ever, had arranged years
since for what had now befallen. There was a simple little
will on a sheet of notepaper. There was a great and
complicated list, on odd scraps of paper, thickly beset with
additions, alterations, and crossings-out, of the
“specimens” hoarded in the cottage; with pencil notes
of values, each revised a dozen times, as the market
changed. There was a Post-Office Savings Bank deposit book,
with entries amounting to eight pounds ten, and a nomination form
whereby Nan May might withdraw the money. There was no
life-insurance, for the old man had surrendered it years ago, to
secure the few pounds he needed to make up the full price of the
cottage.</p>
<p>The will gave Nan May all there might be to take, and left her
to execute. Uncle Isaac, on the return to the cottage the
day before, had at length broken into <SPAN name="page64"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>speech, and by devious approaches,
cunningly disguised and ostentatiously casual, had reached the
will. But he got little by his motion, for though his niece
told him the will’s purport, she protested that till
to-morrow she should do nothing with it, nor did she even offer
to produce it. Of course, he had scarcely expected a legacy
himself; but still, he was Uncle Isaac, profound in experience,
learned in the law, and an oracle in the family. It seemed,
to say the least, a little scandalous that he should not have had
the handling of this property, the selling, the control, the
doling out, with such consideration the exertion might earn, and
the accidents of arithmetic detach.</p>
<p>“It’s an important thing, is a will,” said
Uncle Isaac sagely. “A thing as ought to be seen to
by a experienced person. You might jist look an’ see
’ow it’s wrote. If any’s wrote in pencil
it’s nullavoid.”</p>
<p>“No,” replied Mrs. May, without moving.
“It’s all in ink.”</p>
<p>Then, after a long pause: “Lawyers comes very expensive
with wills,” Uncle Isaac observed. “They come
expensive alwis, an’ mostly they rob the property
accordin’ to form o’ lawr. It’s best to
get a man of experience, as you can trust, to go straight to
Somerset ’ouse in form o’ porpus . . .
It’s the cheapest way, an’ safe. ’E takes
the will, jist as it might be me, an’ ’e goes to the
’thorities, an’ ’e talks to ’em,
knowin’ an’ <SPAN name="page65"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>confidential. ’Ere I am,
ses ’e, as it might be me, on be’alf o’ the
last will an’ ’oly testament as it might be o’
Mr. May. An’ I’ve come in form o’ porpus,
’avin’ objections to lawyers. In form o’
porpus,” Uncle Isaac repeated impressively, tapping a
forefinger on the table: as was his way of blazoning an erudite
phrase that else might pass unregarded.</p>
<p>“Poor gran’dad told me what to do about
goin’ to Somerset House, an’ all that,”
answered Nan May, “in case anything happened. But
I’d take it very kind if you’d come with me, Uncle
Isaac, me not understandin’ such things. But I
can’t think about it to-day.” And with so much
of his finger in the pie Uncle Isaac was fain to be
content. And soon he left, declining to stay for the
night—to Johnny’s great relief—because his
cheap return-ticket was available for the day and no more.</p>
<div class="gapspace"> </div>
<p>And now Johnny, having brought sheets of foolscap paper from
Loughton, was set to work to make a fair copy of the amazing list
of specimens; a work at great length accomplished in an unstable
round hand, but on the whole with not so many blots. And
Nan May’s series of visits to Somerset House was begun,
saddening her with a cost of one and ninepence each visit for
fares in train and omnibus. The first, indeed, cost more,
for Uncle Isaac’s fare from Millwall was also to be
paid. <SPAN name="page66"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
66</span>But he came no more, for in truth his failure as a man
of business was instant and ignoble.</p>
<p>To begin with, the shadow of the awful building fell on him as
he neared it, extinguishing his confidence and stopping his
tongue. In the quadrangle the very tall hat distinguished
an Uncle Isaac of hushed speech and meek docility, and along the
corridors it followed Nan May deferentially, in unresting pursuit
of room No. 37. The room was reached at last, and here
Uncle Isaac found himself constrained to open the business.
For Nan May herself held back now, and the young man in
gold-rimmed glasses fixed him with his eye. So, taking off
his hat with both hands, Uncle Isaac, in a humble murmur,
began:—“We’ve—good mornin’,
sir—we’ve come as it might be in form o’
porpus—”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“As regards to a will,” Uncle Isaac explained
desperately, dropping his technicality like a hot rivet.
“As regards to a will an’ dyin’ testament which
the late deceased did—did write out.”</p>
<p>“Very well. Are you the executor?”</p>
<p>“Well, sir, not as it might be executor. No.
But as uncle to Mr. May’s daughter-in-law by
marriage—”</p>
<p>“Are <i>you</i>?” The gentleman turned
abruptly to Nan May, who gave him the will. Whereupon Uncle
Isaac, in a hopeful way of recovering nerve and eloquence, was
thrust out of the business, and told that Nan May alone <SPAN name="page67"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>would be
dealt with. And he retired once more into shadow, with a
little relief to leaven a great deal of injured dignity.</p>
<p>So that for the rest Nan May relied on herself alone, and
hardened her face to the world. When the specimens came to
be sold, a smart young man came from the London firm of
naturalists, to make an offer. He examined the trays and
cases as hastily and carelessly as was consistent with a privily
sharp eye to all they held, and with the air of contempt proper
for a professional buyer. For in such a matter of business
the widow and the orphan needing money are the weak party, humble
and timid, watching small signs with sinking hearts, and easy to
beat: and a man of business worth the name of one, takes
advantage of the fact for every penny it will bring. So the
smart young man, looking more contemptuous than ever, and dusting
his fingers with his pocket-handkerchief, flung Nan May an offer
of five pounds for the lot.</p>
<p>“No, thank-you, sir,” the woman answered with
simple decision. “I’m sorry you’ve had
the trouble. Good-morning.” Which was not the
reply the young man had looked for, and indeed, not a reply easy
of rejoinder. So he was constrained to some unbending of
manner, and a hint that his firm might increase the offer if she
would name a sum. And the whole thing ended with a letter
carrying a cheque for forty pounds. Which was <SPAN name="page68"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>very handsome
indeed, for the young man’s firm would scarce have paid
more than eighty pounds for the collection In the ordinary way of
trade.</p>
<p>And so the old man’s little affairs were gathered up,
and the Inland Revenue took its bite out of the estate, and there
were no more journeys to Somerset House. But nobody would
buy the cottage.</p>
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