“I don’t like to intrude upon your grief, my dear boy,” said his stepfather, softly, “but it is necessary.  The last will of your dear mother and my beloved wife is about to be read, and your presence is necessary.”

“Couldn’t it be put off?” asked Frank, sadly.  “It seems too soon to think of such things.”

“Pardon me, my dear Frank, but it is quite needful that there should be an immediate knowledge of the contents of the will, in order that the right person may look after the business interests of the estate.  I assure you that it is the invariable custom to read the will immediately after the funeral.”

“If that is the custom, and it is necessary, I have nothing to say.  When is the will to be read?”

“At three o’clock, and it is now two.”

“Very well, sir; I will come down in time.”

“Of course there can’t be much doubt as to the contents of the will,” pursued Mr. Manning.  “You are doubtless the heir, and as you are a minor, I am probably your guardian.  Should such be the case, I hope that the relations between us may be altogether friendly.”

“I hope so,” said Frank, gravely.

At three o’clock the members of the family, with a few outside friends, gathered in the drawing room.  The family solicitor, Mr, Ferret, held in his hand what purported to be the last will of Mrs. Manning.

The widowed husband had directed the lawyer to the bureau of the deceased lady as likely to contain her will.  It was found without trouble in the topmost drawer.

Deborah and the coachman had speculated as to whether they would be invited to attend at the reading of the will.

Their doubts were set at rest by an invitation from Mr. Manning himself.

“You were so long in the service of my dear wife,” he said, “that it is fitting that you be present at the reading of her will, in which it is quite probable that you may be personally interested.”

“He is uncommonly polite, I am sure,” thought Deborah, disposed for the moment to think more favorably of the man whom she had never been able to like.

“My friends,” said the lawyer, after a preliminary cough, “you are assembled to listen to the will of Mrs. Manning, just deceased.  The document which I hold in my hand I believe to be such an instrument.  I will now open if for the first time.”

He untied the ribbon, and began reading the will.

It commenced with the usual formula, and proceeded to a few bequests of trifling amount.

Deborah and Richard Green were each left two hundred dollars, “as a slight acknowledgment of their faithful service.”

One or two friends of the family were remembered, but to an inconsiderable extent.  Then came the important clause: