“I am going out in the air where I can walk and think,” he said. “But I’ll tell you right now, there’s no use to probate that document. It was made by a sick man——”
“It was made by a man fighting for life after an operation,” said the Doctor. “His mentality was as clear as yours or mine when I said good-night to him at ten o’clock last night. There isn’t a court in the land that can touch that will.”
“It’s simply impossible,” said Jamie. “I will not even consider it.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Doctor Grayson, “because if you don’t probate that will, I’ll do it for you and you can rest very largely assured that Mr. Meredith will see that his child’s interests in it are taken care of. You will take it whether you want it or not. If you don’t want to keep it, once it comes to your hands, if you’d rather see someone the Bee Master would have hated go into the little house and commercialize the garden, that’s up to you, so far as your half of it is concerned. You can make up your mind when the time comes. Since you are so in doubt about it, I think I had better turn the document over to Mr. Meredith, but the chances are he will want you to coöperate with him.”
“Well, I will not!” said Jamie, stubbornly. “I will not accept a thing I haven’t earned!”
“Oh, damn the Scots!” said Doctor Grayson, impatiently. “I’m glad I’m English and willi to take all I can get, and you’re the first Scotsman I ever saw who wasn’t willing to take all he could get, no matter if it did
