Bring it to me."
Katherine did as he directed, and could not help seeing the words, "Will
of John Wilmot Liddell," and a date some seven or eight years back,
inscribed upon it. She handed it to her uncle, arranging his pillows so
that he might sit up more comfortably, while she rather wondered at the
commonplace aspect of so potent an instrument. A will, she imagined, was
something huge, of parchment, with big seals attached.
John Liddell slowly put on his spectacles, and unfolding the paper, read
for some time in silence.
"This will not do," he said at last, clearly and firmly. "I was mistaken
in him. The care for and of money must be born in you; it cannot be
taught. No, I can make a better disposition. Could _you_ take care of
money, girl?" he asked sternly.
"I should try," returned Katherine, quietly.
There was a pause. The old man lay thinking, his lean, brown hand lying
on the open paper. "Write," he said at length, so suddenly and sharply
that he startled his niece; get paper and write to Newton. Katherine
brought the writing materials, and placed herself at the small table.
"Dear sir," he dictated--"Be so good as to come to me as soon as
convenient. I wish to make a will more in accordance with my present
knowledge than any executed by me formerly.
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