"But I must be going," he said; "so let's have this troublesome will signed and done with." "Not in the least a troublesome one, I assure you. Rather too simple, I think. Here it is." And Mr. Worboise began to read it over point by point to his client. "All right," said the latter. "Mrs. Boxall to have everything to do with it as she pleases. It is the least I can say, for she has been a good wife to me." "And will be for many years to come, I hope," said Mr. Worboise. "I hope so. Well, go on." Mr. Worboise went on. "All right," said his client again. "Failing my wife, my daughters to have everything, as indeed they will whether my wife fails or not--at last, I mean, for she would leave it to them, of course." "Well," said the lawyer, "and who comes next?" "Nobody. Who do you think?" "It's rather a short--doesn't read quite business-like. Put in any body, just for the chance--a poor one, ha! ha! with such a fine family as yours." "Stick yourself in then, old fellow; and though it won't do you any good, it will be an expression of my long esteem and friendship for you." "What a capital stroke!" thought Mr. Boxall. "I've surely got that nonsense out of his head now. He'll never think of it more. I _was_ country-bred." "Thank you, old friend," said Mr. Worboise, quietly, and entered his own name in succession. The will was soon finished, signed, and witnessed by two of Mr. Worboise's clerks. "Now what is to be done with it?" asked Mr. Worboise. "Oh, you take care of it for me. You have more storage--for that kind of thing, I mean, than I have. I should never know where to find it." "If you want to make any alteration in it, there's your box, you know." "Why, what alteration could I want to make in it?" "That's not for me to suppose. You might quarrel with me though, and want to strike out my name." "True. I _might_ quarrel with my wife too, mightn't I, and strike her name out?" "It might happen." "Yes; anything might happen. Meantime I am content with sufficient probabilities." "By the way, how is that son of mine getting on?" "Oh, pretty well. He's regular enough, and I hear no complaints of him from Stopper; and _he's_ sharp enough, I assure you." "But you're not over-satisfied with him yourself, eh?" "Well, to speak the truth, between you and me, I don't think he's cut out for our business." "That's much the same as saying he's of no use for business of any sort." "I don't know. He does his work fairly well, as I say, but he don't seem to have any heart in it." "Well, what do you think he is fit for now?" "I'm sure I don't know. You could easily make a fine gentleman of him."