MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Angrily._] When the church members hear that--

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Chewing his cigar._] I don't know why he was called upon
to leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only last
month, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give you
something he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the
fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell,--it's the sentiment of the thing
that counts--[_Chewing the word with his cigar._] the sentiment. Drive on,
Fred.

FREDERIK. "To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer-book."

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Suddenly changing--dazed._] His prayer-book ... me?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Seeing_ FREDERIK _lay down the paper and rise._] Is
that all?

FREDERIK. That's all.

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Still dazed._] A prayer-book.... Me? Well, I'll be--
[_Struck._] Here, Parson, let's swap. You take the prayer-book--I'll take
the old fob.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly._] Thank you. I already _have_ a
prayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to the
others--trying to control his feelings._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation and
disappointment._] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in your
uncle.