“Yes,” said Mavis, nervously, “we mustn’t ask for secrets.”

“It’s just this,” said Dale, with stolid insistence.  “I do hope he has done something equally handsome for those relations of my wife whose names you mentioned—­especially for her aunt, Mrs. J.E.  Petherick, who is now past her youth, and to whom it would be a comfort.  Also my wife’s cousin Ruby, who is earning her livelihood on the continent by following the profession of a musician.  Such a windfall would come as a blessing to her.”

“Mr. Dale,” said the solicitor, “I may safely say as much as this.  No one who had the smallest grounds for expecting anything will find himself left out in the cold.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Dale had raised his eyes, and, while speaking now, in the same sententious manner, he seemed to be observing Mr. Cleaver’s face very closely.  “The fact is, my wife and I had no grounds whatever for expecting to be singled out for special rewards.  On the contrary, it was never in my wife’s power to render the long and faithful service rendered by the others; so that if a bequest had fallen to us while others of the Petherick clan—­if I may employ that expression—­had bin passed over, it might have bin difficult for us to benefit to the detriment of the rest of ’em—­at least, without causing fam’ly squabbles.”

“Then I’ll freely reassure you.  Such a contingency will not arise.  No,” and Mr. Cleaver’s tone became heartily enthusiastic.  “It is a beautiful will.  You’ll see all the particulars in the newspapers before a week is over, and you’ll say that no critic—­however hard to please—­could find fault.  It is a will that is bound to attract the attention of the press.”

“Then thank you again, sir.  And good afternoon—­with renewed thanks for the courteous way you wrote to my wife, and received the two of us to-day.”

“Good afternoon.”  Mr. Cleaver smiled and shook hands good-humoredly.  “My congratulations, Mrs. Dale; and one word of advice, free gratis.  Invest your legacy wisely, and don’t confound capital with income.  You’re going to have two thousand pounds all told, not two thousand a year, you know.”

“Oh, no, sir—­I wouldn’t be so foolish as to think so.”

They had tea at a pastry-cook’s in complete silence, and they were half-way home again before Mavis ventured to rouse her husband from his ominous gloom.

“Will,” she said, with an assumption of calmness and confidence, “I didn’t at once catch the drift of what you were saying to Mr. Cleaver, and when I tried to stop you it was because I was all on edge from hearing such a tremendous piece of news.  Such a lot more than ever I could have dreamed of.”

He did not answer.  Steadily watching the horse’s ears, and holding the reins in both hands with the conscientious care of an unpractised coachman, he drove down the slope to the Cross Roads and round the corner into the woods.

“No, but I soon saw what was passing through your mind, Will.  You wanted to make quite sure that there would be nothing to cause talk.  I don’t myself believe people would have really noticed if I had been the only one.  But, of course, as I am one of several, it stands to reason nobody can say anything nasty.”