d himself upon
the sofa, placed his hat beside him, drew up the knees of his black
broadcloth trousers, took off and wiped his spectacles with great
thoroughness and deliberation upon a large silk handkerchief,
replaced them upon the middle of his Roman nose, cleared his throat,
pursed his lips, and drily but clearly talked business.

Great-Aunt Sophronisba would have left a much larger fortune had she
been less addicted to lawsuits. You wouldn't think an old soul of
almost a hundred could find very much chance to brew mischief,
would you? You didn't know Great-Aunt Sophronisba!

I was informed that the case of Scarlett vs. Geddes had been
automatically closed by the death of the plaintiff; _but_ I had
inherited along with Hynds House:

The case of Scarlett vs. The Vestry and Pastor of St. Polycarp's
Church, from whom Mrs. Scarlett sought to recover three
paintings--"Faith," "Hope," and "Charity"--which her father had
commissioned a visiting artist to paint, and had then presented to
St. Polycarp's, with the stipulation that they should "forever hang
in the sacred edifice, reminding the brethren of the Cardinal
Virtues of the Christian Religion."

They did hang in the church for a century. Then, when the Ladies'
Missionary Society was helping "do over" the parsonage, a faded
Faith, a dulled Hope, and a fly-specked Charity were transported
thither. Whereupon suit was immediately brought by the donor's
daughter, who averred that the church had lost all right and title
to the paintings by an action directly contrary to her father's
will, and insisted that they should be turned over to herself as
sole heiress. It was a nice little case, and called forth an
imposing array of counsel. Mrs. Scarlett had added a codicil to her
will, leaving _me_ her claim to the three paintings "fraudulently
withheld by the pastor and vestrymen of St. Polycarp's Church."

There was, too, the question of the lot on Lafayette Street, between
Zion Church on the one hand, and the Y.M.C.A. on the other. Both had
tried to buy it; and both had been refused with contumely. Instead,
that nice old lady ran up extra-sized bill-boards. Every time the
Zionist brethren looked out of their side windows of a Sunday, they
had ample opportunity to learn considerable about the art of
advertising on bill-boards. And if a circus happened to be coming to
Hyndsville, they could count on every child in their Sunday school
missing his lesson, unless the text, by