"It is customary--" began the attorney.

"Well, we'll break the custom," Don cut in sharply.

Barton glanced up. It might have been his late client speaking; it
gave him a start.

"As you wish," he assented. "Perhaps, however, I may be allowed to
observe that in many ways your father's will is peculiar."

"It wouldn't be father's will if it wasn't peculiar," declared Don.

Barton pushed the papers away from him.

"Briefly, then," he said, "your father leaves his entire estate to
you--in trust."

Don leaned forward, his stick grasped in his gloved hands.

"I don't get that last."

"In trust," repeated Barton with emphasis. "He has honored our firm
with the commission of serving as a board of trustees for carrying out
the terms of the will."

"You mean to fix my allowance?"

"To carry out the terms of the will, which are as follows: namely, to
turn over to you, but without power of conveyance, the paternal
domicile on West Sixtieth Street with all its contents."

Don frowned.

"Paternal domicile--I can translate that all right. I suppose you mean
the house. But what's that line 'without power of conveyance'?"

"It means that you are at liberty to occupy the premises, but that you
are to have no power to sell, to rent, or to dispose of the property
in any way whatsoever."

Don appeared puzzled.

"That's a bit queer. What do you suppose Dad thought I wanted of a
place that size to live in?"

"I think your father was a man of considerable sentiment."

"Eh?"

"Sentiment," Barton repeated. "It was there you were born, and there
your mother died."

"Yes, that's all correct; but--well, go on."

"The rest of the document, if you insist upon a digest, consists
principally of directions to the trustees. Briefly, it provides that
we invest the remainder of the property in safe bonds and apply the
interest to meet taxes on the aforesaid paternal domicile, to retain
and pay the wages of the necessary servants, to furnish fuel and
water, and to maintain the house in proper repair."

"Well, go on."

"In case of your demise--"

"You may skip my demise; I'm not especially interested in that."

"Then I think we have covered all the more important provisions,"
Barton concluded.

"All?" exclaimed Don. "What do you think I'm going to live on?"

Here was the clash for which Barton had been waiting. His face
hardened, and he shoved back his chair a little.

"I am not able to find any provision in the will