“I have observed that,” dryly replied the doctor. “Well--well--would you mind if I were to ask a plain question, doctor?” and as the medical man inclined his head, he proceeded with little show of embarrassment: “You see, my uncle will always be an invalid, will he not?” “Yes.” “And can you tell approximately how long this lingering disease will last?” “Then I understand that you want to know how soon your uncle is going to die?” George blushed at the plain words. “Well, not exactly that, but when I come to think, yes, doctor, that is it. Will he live long?” “He may live for some years, but not likely. Certainly not if he is worried in any way.” “Then he will live forever if all he needs is quiet and lack of worry, as I have taken every burden from him.” The doctor wondered what this suave young fellow would say when he heard that the will had been changed and he had been forgotten. “He will probably live as long as you want him to, Mr. Benson,” said the doctor, and then he went down the steps and could but think of the little daughter married to a soldier, and pondered upon the fact that she would be worth a fortune when her father should close his eyes in death. * * * * * George Benson ran up the stairs to his uncle’s room, but he did not know that the family lawyer was there. “Good afternoon,” said he, holding out his hand, the truth never once coming across his mind. “How are you, uncle?” said he, walking up to the bed. “Oh, so, so, boy,” replied the sick man. “I have done something which I hope you will think is just. I have made a new will leaving Annie my fortune.” “What?” The cry in the one word was enough to startle each man. The aged invalid raised on his elbow, and looked into the contorted face. The lawyer was thankful that he had stayed, for he believed and told the doctor afterward that he thought George Benson would have killed his uncle if he had not been there. Without noticing the attorney, he broke out: “How dare you tell me that? Do you think that I am going to allow you to do anything like that? What did I get rid of that young rascal, Tom Cooper, for, and many others who have stood in my way? You need not think that I am going to let you cut me off without a penny.” “You’ll let me do what I wish with my money, my own money,” muttered the sick man. “What business is it of yours what I do? You would have had none of it if I had had my child with me.” George Benson’s face took upon it a terrible expression. “Oh, you think you are going to see Annie, do you? Well, know the truth, and if it kills you it serves you right, for Annie was here only the other day, begging to see you, and I sent her away starving with her child. She will not see you again, for a thinner girl never applied for alms to any one before.”