David was greatly delighted at all he saw, and he could not restrain the feeling of pride that he was the cause of all this activity.  Not the slightest surprise entered his mind at what he observed.  There was not even the least shadow of mystery about it all.  To him it was but natural that things should be as they were.  He doubted nothing; he asked no questions.  His plan was so great and reasonable that he accepted everything as a matter of course.

“You have perhaps wondered,” Mr. Westcote began, after they were seated, “why I have brought you here to-day.  I told you that it is a matter of business details, and so it is.  You are Honorary President of our company and, accordingly, you are a large share-holder.  You were not aware of that before, and I trust you do not mind our keeping it a secret?”

“No, no; not at all,” David replied.  “Everything is satisfactory to me.”

“That is good,” Mr. Westcote continued.  “But as you have such a large interest in the company, it is necessary that you should have your will made to save complications in the future.  Life is uncertain, you know, and if anything should happen to you it would make it very difficult for us if you did not have your business matters attended to.”

“Quite right, quite right,” David assented.  “I have thought about it somewhat of late, and I am very glad that you have mentioned it.  Could we not have the business attended to at once?  It will not take long, will it?”

“No, it can soon be done,” was the reply.  “But first of all it will be necessary for you to state in whose favour you wish to make your will.  Then we can have the papers drawn up, and you can sign them before you, leave the city.”

“Yes, that will be necessary,” and David placed his right hand to his forehead in a thoughtful manner.  “I have been thinking that all over, and know the ones to whom I wish to leave my principal share in the falls.  You see, I want to have people who will take a keen interest in the undertaking, such as I have, and who will be able to continue the work when I am gone.”

“You are quite right,” Mr. Westcote replied, though it was evident that he with difficulty repressed a smile of amusement at his companion’s words.

“But I am somewhat worried about the others,” David continued.  “I wish to leave something to my faithful girl, Betty Bean, to her mother, who is a widow, and to Captain Peterson and his wife, for they have a hard struggle to make a living.  Now, they are the ones I wish to help as far as I can, but I have no idea what I ought to leave them.”

“How much would you like for them to have?” Mr. Westcote enquired.

“Well, it would be nice if they could have a thousand each.  That would make them so comfortable.  But I am afraid such an amount is out of the question.”

“Not at all,” was the reply.  “You name the amount, and we shall put it in the will.  You see,” he added, as if it were an afterthought, “the falls will be good for that, and perhaps more, even after you have arranged for the others.”