a few thousands, and those
settled on his Cousin Iris, so that, to get his share, he would have
to try every kind of persuasion unless he could get up a case for law.
But the other thing--why, it was nearly all personal estate, so far as
he could learn by the will, and he had read it over and over again in
the room at Somerset House, with the long table in it, and the
watchful man who won't let anybody copy anything. What a shame, he
thought, not to let wills be copied! Personalty sworn under a hundred
and twenty thousand, all in three per cents, and devised to a certain
young lady, the testator's ward, in trust, for the testator's son, or
his heirs, when he or they should present themselves. Meantime, the
ward was to receive for her own use and benefit, year by year, the
whole income.

"It is unfortunate," said Joe, "that we can't come down upon her for
arrears. Still, there's an income, a steady income, of three thousand
six hundred a year when the son's heirs present themselves. I should
like to call myself a solicitor, but that kite won't fly, I'm afraid.
Lotty must be the sole heiress. Dressed quiet, without any powder, and
her fringe brushed flat, she'd pass for a lady anywhere. Perhaps it's
lucky, after all, that I married her, though if I had had the good
sense to make up to Iris, who's a deuced sight prettier, she'd have
kept me going almost as well with her pupils, and set me right with
the old man and handed me over this magnificent haul for a finish. If
only the old man hasn't broken the seals and read the papers!"

The old man had not, and Joe's fears were, therefore, groundless.

CHAPTER V.

AS A BROTHER.

Arnold immediately began to use the privilege accorded to him with a
large and liberal interpretation. If, he argued, a man is to be
treated as a brother, there should be the immediate concession of the
exchange of christian-names, and he should be allowed to call as often
as he pleases. Naturally he began by trying to read the secret of a
life self-contained, so dull, and yet so happy, so strange to his
experience.

"Is this, Iris?" he asked, "all your life? Is there nothing more?"

"No," she said; "I think you have seen all. In the morning I have my
correspondence; in the afternoon I do my sewing, I play a little, I
read, or I walk, sometimes by myself, and sometimes with Lala Roy; in
the evening I play again, or I read again, or I work at the
mathematics, while my grandfather and Lala