"He placed me under no obligations to leave the boy any money,"
snapped the old woman, white with suppressed wrath, "you know that
well enough, Silas Watson, for you drew up the will."

The old gentleman slowly drew a pattern upon the gravelled walk with
the end of his walking-stick.

"Yes, I drew up the will," he said, deliberately, "and I remember that
he gave to you, his betrothed bride, all that he possessed--gave it
gladly and lovingly, and without reserve. He was very fond of you,
Miss Jane. But perhaps his conscience pricked him a bit, after all,
for he added the words: 'I shall expect you to look after the welfare
of my only relative, my sister. Katherine Bradley--or any of her
heirs.' It appears to me, Miss Jane, that that is a distinct
obligation. The boy is now sixteen and as fine a fellow as one often
meets."

"Bah! An imbecile--an awkward, ill-mannered brat who is only fit for a
stable-boy! I know him, Silas, and I know he'll never amount to a hill
of beans. Leave _him_ my money? Not if I hadn't a relative on earth!"

"You misjudge him, Jane. Kenneth is all right if you'll treat him
decently. But he won't stand your abuse and I don't think the less of
him for that."

"Why abuse? Haven't I given him a home and an education, all because
Thomas asked me to look after his relatives? And he's been rebellious
and pig-headed and sullen in return for my kindness, so naturally
there's little love lost between us."