Mr. Patton looked at him sharply. "H'm," he said, dryly. "I suppose so. Well, well."
Aunt Augusta appeared in the doorway of the sitting-room. She held out her hand to Mr. Patton, and Wakefield saw that almost all the family was gathered in the sitting-room. Uncle Nicholas sat in an armchair in a corner, filling his pipe; Uncle Ernest was by a window, nervously rubbing the nails of one hand against the palm of the other. Piers and Renny stood together talking, and Mr. Patton was barely inside when Meg and Maurice arrived. Meg was carrying her infant daughter, Patience. Wakefield was consumed by curiosity. He was also humiliated to find that a family conclave had reached such a point as this without his knowledge.
Finch came along the hall, rather more sheepish than usual, and he too made toward the door of the sitting-room. Wakefield caught his arm.
"What is it?" he asked, eagerly. "What are they up to?"
"The will. Patton's going to read the will."
"The will? Oh! Then we'll know who's going to be the heir, shan't we?"
"Shut up," whispered Finch, and pushed past him.
But Wake was not to be put off so easily. He followed Finch into the sitting-room and drew up a chair beside Mr. Patton where he sat at the square table, with some papers spread before him.
Mr. Patton looked at him over his glasses.
"I don't think the child should be allowed to stay," said Aunt Augusta.
"Of course he shouldn't," agreed Piers.
"Wake, darling," said Meg, joggling Patience on her knee, "run along and feed your rabbits."
Wakefield did not demur, but he hitched his chair a little nearer the table and pushed Aunt Augusta's bottle of smelling-salts within reach of Mr. Patton, in case of need.
"Put that child out," growled Nicholas from his corner, pointing at Wake with his pipe.
