Forwarded through the matron of that nursing home. Now, the question is—"
Dolly interrupted him. "But I say that note isn't legal. Houses ought to be done by a lawyer, Charles, surely."
Her husband worked his jaw severely. Little lumps appeared in front of either ear—a symptom that she had not yet learnt to respect, and she asked whether she might see the note. Charles looked at his father for permission, who said abstractedly, "Give it her." She seized it, and at once exclaimed: "Why, it's only in pencil! I said so. Pencil never counts."
"We know that it is not legally binding, Dolly," said Mr. Wilcox, speaking from out of his fortress. "We are aware of that. Legally, I should be justified in tearing it up and throwing it into the fire. Of course, my dear, we consider you as one of the family, but it will be better if you do not interfere with what you do not understand."
Charles, vexed both with his father and his wife, then repeated: "The question is—" He had cleared a space of the breakfast-table from plates and knives, so that he could draw patterns on the tablecloth. "The question is whether Miss Schlegel, during the fortnight we were all away, whether she unduly—" He stopped.
"I don't think that," said his father, whose nature was nobler than his son's.
"Don't think what?"
"That she would have—that it is a case of undue influence. No, to my mind the question is the—the invalid's condition at the time she wrote."
"My dear father, consult an expert if you like, but I don't admit it is my mother's writing."
"Why, you just said it was!" cried Dolly.
"Never mind if I did," he blazed out; "and hold your tongue."
The poor little wife coloured at this, and, drawing her handkerchief from her pocket, shed a few tears. No one noticed her. Evie was scowling like an angry boy. The two men were gradually assuming the manner of
