As the lawyer took the paper from Dode and spread it upon the old board table and handed Queeder a pen the latter took it aimlessly, quite as a child might have, and made his mark where indicated, Mr. Giles observing very cautiously, “This is of your own free will and deed, is it, Mr. Queeder?” The old man made no reply. For the time being anyhow, possibly due to the blow on his head as he fell, he had lost the main current of his idea, which was not to sign. After signing he looked vaguely around, as though uncertain as to what else might be requested of him, while Mrs. Queeder made her mark, answering “yes” to the same shrewd question. Then Dode, as the senior intelligence of this institution and the one who by right of force now dominated, having witnessed the marks of his father and mother, as did Jane, two signatures being necessary, he took the money and before the straining eyes of his relatives proceeded to recount it. Meanwhile old Queeder, still asleep to the significance of the money, sat quite still, but clawed at it as though it were something which he ought to want, but was not quite sure of it. “You find it all right, I suppose?” asked the lawyer, who was turning to go. Dode acknowledged that it was quite correct. Then the two visitors, possessed of the desired deed, departed. The family, barring the father, who sat there still in a daze, began to discuss how the remarkable sum was to be divided. “Now, I just wanta tell yuh one thing, Dode,” urged the mother, all avarice and anxiety for herself, “a third o’ that, whutever ’tis, b’longs tuh me, accordin’ tuh law!” “An’ I sartinly oughta git a part o’ that thar, workin’ the way I have,” insisted Jane, standing closely over Dode.