"Well, you can't, that's all," says the young lady. "So speed up and
tell it to me."

Course, I wasn't doin' that. We holds quite a debate on the subject
without my scorin' any points at all. She tells me how she's a niece
by marriage of Mrs. Bagstock, and the unregrettin' widow of the late
Dick McCloud, who up to a year ago was the only survivin' relative of
his dear aunt.

"And he wasn't much good at that, if I do say it," announces Tessie,
snappin' her black eyes. "I don't deny he had me buffaloed for a while
there, throwin' the bull about his rich aunt that was goin' to leave
him a fortune. Huh! This is the fortune--this old furnished-room
joint that's mortgaged up to the eaves and ain't had a roomer in three
months. Hot fortune, ain't it? And here I am stranded with a batty
old dame, two blocks below Christopher."

"Waitin' to inherit?" I asks innocent.

"Why not?" says Tessie. "I stood for Dick McCloud 'most three years.
That ought to call for some pension, hadn't it? I don't mind sayin',
too, it ain't one long May-day festival, this bein' buried alive with
Aunt Nutty."

"Meanin' Mrs. Bagstock?" says I.

She nods. "One of Dick's little cracks," says she. "Her real name is
Natalie."