Hawkins.  Good again, Mr. Dudgeon, good again. (Preparing to read) Are you ready, sir?

Richard.  Ready, aye ready.  For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.  Go ahead.

Hawkins (reading).  “This is the last will and testament of me Timothy Dudgeon on my deathbed at Nevinstown on the road from Springtown to Websterbridge on this twenty-fourth day of September, one thousand seven hundred and seventy seven.  I hereby revoke all former wills made by me and declare that I am of sound mind and know well what I am doing and that this is my real will according to my own wish and affections.”

Richard (glancing at his mother).  Aha!

Hawkins (shaking his head).  Bad phraseology, sir, wrong phraseology.  “I give and bequeath a hundred pounds to my younger son Christopher Dudgeon, fifty pounds to be paid to him on the day of his marriage to Sarah Wilkins if she will have him, and ten pounds on the birth of each of his children up to the number of five.”

Richard.  How if she won’t have him?

Christy.  She will if I have fifty pounds.

Richard.  Good, my brother.  Proceed.

Hawkins.  “I give and bequeath to my wife Annie Dudgeon, born Annie Primrose”—­you see he did not know the law, Mr. Dudgeon:  your mother was not born Annie:  she was christened so—­“an annuity of fifty-two pounds a year for life (Mrs. Dudgeon, with all eyes on her, holds herself convulsively rigid) to be paid out of the interest on her own money”—­there’s a way to put it, Mr. Dudgeon!  Her own money!

Mrs. Dudgeon.  A very good way to put God’s truth.  It was every penny my own.  Fifty-two pounds a year!

Hawkins.  “And I recommend her for her goodness and piety to the forgiving care of her children, having stood between them and her as far as I could to the best of my ability.”

Mrs. Dudgeon.  And this is my reward! (raging inwardly) You know what I think, Mr. Anderson you know the word I gave to it.

Anderson.  It cannot be helped, Mrs. Dudgeon.  We must take what comes to us. (To Hawkins.) Go on, sir.

Hawkins.  “I give and bequeath my house at Websterbridge with the land belonging to it and all the rest of my property soever to my eldest son and heir, Richard Dudgeon.”

Richard.  Oho!  The fatted calf, Minister, the fatted calf.

Hawkins.  “On these conditions—­”

Richard.  The devil!  Are there conditions?

Hawkins.  “To wit:  first, that he shall not let my brother Peter’s natural child starve or be driven by want to an evil life.”

Richard (emphatically, striking his fist on the table).  Agreed.

Mrs. Dudgeon, turning to look malignantly at Essie, misses her and looks quickly round to see where she has moved to; then, seeing that she has left the room without leave, closes her lips vengefully.