had actually expended in caring for Uncle Joe during the past few
months. He would be satisfied with that and--But he got no farther.
Mr. Sigsbee hastened to remind him that he hadn't anything to say
about it. He didn't have a voice in the matter. And then Angela and
Elizabeth scornfully observed that it was a pretty time to talk about
that sort of thing, after he had so skilfully succeeded in influencing
their poor, mentally unbalanced father to make a will like this one.

Right heroically, Mr. Bingle declared that he was willing to give all
of his inheritance to any deserving charity, or charities, reserving,
if no one objected, a sufficient amount to enable him to purchase a
little farm on which he could spend the rest of his days and not have
to go on forever as a bookkeeper in a bank.

"Bosh!" said Geoffrey Hooper, glaring at his rich cousin.

"Ridiculous!" cried Angela and Elizabeth, transfixing Mr. Bingle with
glittering eyes.

"Very well," said Mr. Bingle, arising hastily. "Let it be bosh and
ridiculous, just as you like. I would have been willing to take this
small amount, just as I have said, and, what's more, I might have been
willing to divide the estate into four equal parts--if Mr. Sigsbee
would let me do it--but now I'll be damned if I'll do anything for
either of you. You don't deserve a nickel, not one of you. You had
your chance and you didn't take it. I fed and clothed and housed your
father and I stood ready to spend my last dollar to make his last few
days on earth comfortable and easy. I buried him. I went to his
funeral. I took the chance of losing my job by doing so. I froze my
ears--oh, look at 'em! I don't care. And now you--you three! You can