"I'll have nothing to do with it," exclaimed Nellie; and out she went with a fine colour.
"Is this something to do with that nasty robbery they call income tax?" asked Miss Yard.
"This is your last will and testament," replied George solemnly. "I know you mean to leave everything to Nellie, but you can't do that unless you sign a will. You must die soon, you know; and, if it was to happen suddenly, Nellie would get nothing."
"I did write out a paper, but somebody has hidden it away somewhere," said the old lady.
"Pieces of paper are very little good," said George. "This is a properly drawn up will. When you have signed it I can go away quite happy, and I shall know dear Nellie will be provided for."
"Will she have the house, and the furniture, and all my money?" asked Miss Yard eagerly.
"Percy gets your money, but Nellie will have all that you may leave in the bank, any investments you may make, and the proportion of income up to the time of your death," said George learnedly.
"Yes, and two witnesses are required; but Nellie can't be one," said George, going to the window and gazing along the street for some honest person who could also write.
Presently the Wallower in Wealth appeared, prospecting the gutter for any signs of gold dust.
"I know he can write, for he signed a petition to uncle in favour of more frequent offertories in aid of the poor and needy," George muttered. Then he caught up the will, lest Miss Yard should scribble her name all over it during his absence, ran out into the street, and invited the scribe to step inside and witness Miss Yard's signature.
"I'll do it on one condition," said the Wallower in Wealth.
"You sell me the musical box. I'll give ye ten shillings vor it."
"That musical box is worth fifty pounds," said George. "But I can't sell it."
"It has been out of order since my uncle died."
"You get it put right, and let me have it vor fifteen shillings, and I'll sign."
"Miss Yard wants you to witness her signature. You won't be doing anything for me."
"Miss Yard isn't feeling very well today, and she's in a hurry to get her affairs settled."
"I b'ain't preventing her," said the Wallower in Wealth.
"I might spare a pound vor the musical box."
"You couldn't get it repaired. That musical box is a lost art."