million dollars, Mr. Brewster, and it cannot be denied."

"You are right," agreed Montgomery, dejectedly. "Really, Mr.
Grant, this proposition is too much for me. If you aren't required
to give an immediate answer, I want to think it over. It sounds
like a dream."

"It is no dream, Mr. Brewster," smiled the lawyer. "You are face
to face with an amazing reality. Come in to-morrow morning and see
me again. Think it over, study it out. Remember the conditions of
the will and the conditions that confront you. In the meantime, I
shall write to Mr. Jones, the executor, and learn from him just
what he expects you to do in order to carry out his own conception
of the terms of your uncle's will."

"Don't write, Mr. Grant; telegraph. And ask him to wire his reply.
A year is not very long in an affair of this kind." A moment later
he added, "Damn these family feuds! Why couldn't Uncle James have
relented a bit? He brings endless trouble on my innocent head,
just because of a row before I was born."

"He was a strange man. As a rule, one does not carry grudges quite
so far. But that is neither here nor there. His will is law in
this case."

"Suppose I succeed in spending all but a thousand dollars before
the 23d of next September! I'd lose the seven millions and be the
next thing to a pauper. That wouldn't be quite like getting my
money's worth."