bad humour. She called him "poor George," and treated
all his incivility to herself as though it were the effect of his
grief. She asked him questions about Parliament, which, of course, he
didn't answer, and told him little stories about poor dear Greenow,
not heeding his expressions of unmistakable disgust.

The two days at last went by, and the hour of the funeral came. There
was the doctor and Gogram, and the uncle and the nephew, to follow
the corpse,--the nephew taking upon himself ostentatiously the
foremost place, as though he could thereby help to maintain his
pretensions as heir. The clergyman met them at the little wicket-gate
of the churchyard, having, by some reasoning, which we hope was
satisfactory to himself, overcome a resolution which he at first
formed, that he would not read the burial service over an unrepentant
sinner. But he did read it, having mentioned his scruples to none but
one confidential clerical friend in the same diocese.

"I'm told that you have got my grandfather's will," George said to
the attorney as soon as he saw him.

"I have it in my pocket," said Mr Gogram, "and purpose to read it as
soon as we return from church."

"Is it usual to take a will away from a man's house in that way?"
George asked.

"Quite usual," said the attorney; "and in this case it was done at
the express desire of the testator."

"I think it is the common practice," said John Vavasor.

George upon this turned round at his uncle as though about to attack
him, but he restrained himself and said nothing, though he showed his
teeth.

The funeral was very plain, and not a word was spoken by George
Vavasor during the journey there and back. John Vavasor asked a few
questions of the doctor as to the last weeks of his father's life;
and it was incidentally mentioned, both by the doctor and by the
attorney, that the old Squire's intellect had remained unimpaired
up to the last moment that he had been seen by either of them. When
they returned to the hall Mrs Greenow met them with an invitation to
lunch. They all went to the dining-room, and drank each a glass of
sherry. George took two or three glasses. The doctor then withdrew,
and drove himself back to Penrith, where he lived.

"Shall we go into the other room now?" said the attorney.

The three gentlemen then rose up, and went across to the
drawing-room, George leading the way. The attorney followed him, and
John Vavasor closed the door behind them. Had