CHAPTER V
THE MATTER OF A WILL
Allen paused a moment, his hands clasped on his knees, his eyes thoughtfully upon them.
“I have a client,” he said at last. “He’s an old, old man. Though he retained me a week ago, it was only to-day that I was able to persuade him to put his last will and testament into writing. Poor fellow, he seems to have had a horror all his life of making a will. Thought that the moment he did, it would be the signing of his death warrant.”
In spite of the warm evening breeze Betty shuddered.
“I don’t wonder,” she said. “A will has always seemed a horrid thing to me.”
“But a very necessary one,” Allen reminded her. “The old fellow has considerable of this world’s goods and since he can’t hope to take them with him where he’s going, it’s only sensible to dispose of them justly before he goes.”
“Oh,” said Betty, pityingly. “Is he dying, Allen?”
The young lawyer nodded soberly.
“And his dying isn’t the most pitiful thing about it,” he said. “Everybody has to make up his mind to die sometime and he has lived longer than most. But what worries me,” he paused and the frown deepened, “is that he has something on his mind that, it seems, he can’t bring himself to confide to anybody. Even the will that he drew up to-day isn’t final—or at least, I judged that it wasn’t by the fact that he told me to come back to-morrow.”
“You think he wants to change his will?” asked Betty, puzzled. “I wonder why.”
“If I knew that,” said Allen, with a sudden smile, “I’d know everything, most likely. The other day when he was out of his head—but there,” he checked himself, drawing himself up short as though he were about to say too much, “I can’t betray the confidence of a client. Not that he’s given me his confidence to any marked extent,” he finished with a rueful smile.
Betty was quiet for a moment, thinking over what he had said. She knew Allen well enough to be sure that he had not told her everything he knew. That, as he said, would be to betray the confidence of a client.
There was something very pathetic in the thought of the aged man dying with something on his conscience, a misdeed possibly, perhaps an injustice to some innocent person, and unable even in his extremity, poor stubborn old fellow, to confess.
“Suppose, Allen—” she said suddenly. “Suppose he dies without making a confession?”
Allen shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s probably what he will do,” he answered. “And in that case the mystery—if there is one—will die with him.”
“It’s a pity,” said the Little Captain thoughtfully. “I wish we could do something to help him.”
“Well,” said Allen, turning to her with a queer little smile on his lips, “it’s just like you to wish that. But if I were you I wouldn’t pity the old codger too much. I reckon he’s been a pretty hard man in his day.”
Allen’s lips tightened, and again Betty thought that there was something more behind his words than he was free to tell her. She saw also that the matter of this queer old man and his will had taken a great hold upon him. There surely must be some mystery. Allen was not one to let himself get wrought up about nothing.
“I like that red thing,” said Allen, suddenly, and Betty, looking at him, surprised, saw that he meant her dress.
She laughed and made an impudent little face at him.
“Thanks,” she said. “But it isn’t red. It’s American beauty.”
“Same thing,” said he, with masculine indifference to names. “It’s pretty anyway. I say, Betty,” after a pause, during which Betty’s gaze had been steadily averted from him, “am I forgiven?”
“For what?” she asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
“For staying away. You know I wouldn’t have done it if I could have helped it.”
“I know that,” replied Betty, and then, as he leaned closer, went on hurriedly: “I’ve something to tell you, too. We’re going camping this summer.”
“We? Whom do you mean by we?” he asked, laughing.
“Whom should I mean?” retorted Betty. “Us Outdoor Girls, of course.”
“Oh, then I’m not invited——”
“If you want to come——”
“Betty——”
“Allen, if you won’t be sensible, I’ll—I’ll have to send you home, that’s all.”
At which threat Allen subsided, though Betty had an idea it would not be for long. She hurried on to tell him about the cabin at Rainbow Lake and the young lawyer was very much interested.
“Ought to be no end of fun,” he said. “I suppose you’ll wear sporting suits and sit around the campfire at night and fight off the wild animals——”
“There aren’t any wild animals,” protested Betty.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” disputed Allen, earnestly. “I’ve heard there are no end of man-eating critters around there. You’ll need some strong men—one strong man, at least—to protect you.”
“Don’t know any,” retorted Betty, flippantly, at which Allen only laughed indulgently.
“You just think you don’t,” he said.
And after awhile Mrs. Nelson called down, wanting to know if Allen had the correct time, and Allen, taking the hint, said good-by—or rather, he started to say good-by. To be exact, it took Betty just ten minutes by the clock to shoo him off the porch.
And after he was gone Betty sighed and looked up at the moon.
“It’s just ten-thirty,” she thought resentfully. “They might have let him stay a little longer!”
As they had agreed, the girls met the next day to make definite arrangements for their trip. Since the distance was only a few miles to the upper end of Rainbow Lake and they could go by water all the way, they decided to go in the Gem.
When Allen, a few nights later, heard of their decision he protested strenuously. Since the day the girls had so nearly collided with the General Pershing he had had a dread of letting Betty go anywhere in the motor boat.
However, as the girls had no idea whatever of allowing him to spoil their plans, they finally talked him down.
“The idea!” said Mollie, indignantly. “If you had seen Betty handle the boat that day you wouldn’t be afraid to let her go anywhere. I bet there isn’t one of you boys who could have done as well.”
As the three other boys, as well as Allen, were present, they protested vehemently, and it was an hour or more before quiet was restored.
However, it was eventually decided that the girls were to have their way, leaving for Rainbow Lake in about a week. A few days later, the boys would join them, bringing their tent and camping paraphernalia.
They were all tremendously excited over the plan, and the time they had set for the start seemed awfully far away. However, as Grace insisted she could not go a step without the right kind of clothing—she wanted one of the latest knicker suits—and since she was sure she could get a smarter outfit in Kayford, a neighboring town, than she could in Deepdale, the other girls were finally argued into agreeing to the delay.
“But one thing I do know,” Betty said at last. “If you go to Kayford for a knicker suit, we’re all going to Kayford too, and for the same purpose.”
“Suits me,” Grace had drawled. “We can go in Mollie’s car.”
And so it came about that on one fine morning a day or two later the Outdoor Girls climbed merrily into Mollie’s six and departed for Kayford.
It was a gorgeous day and the girls’ spirits matched the weather. It was always fun to go shopping anyway, and under the present circumstances it promised to be even more fun than usual.
Mollie’s car was running in fine form and it fairly ate up the miles between Deepdale and Kayford. They glided into the main street well before noon.
“We’ve plenty of time to shop before lunch,” cried Betty gayly. “And then we can go to that new little tea shop and get something good. I think I’ll have some chicken à la king.”
“Hear the child!” sighed Grace. “And it’s one whole hour to lunch time.”
Half of that hour they spent in buying knicker suits that fairly made them ache for the woods, if only for the joy of wearing them. Then, when they no longer had any excuse for lingering in the fascinating shop, they sauntered down Main Street toward the little restaurant of which Betty had spoken, looking in the store windows as they went.
As they were passing the Woman’s Exchange, Betty suddenly stopped and uttered a cry of delight.
“Girls,” she cried, going nearer to the show windows, as though drawn there irresistibly, “look at those embroideries. Did you ever see anything so perfectly stunning in your lives?”