Part 35 (2/2)

”`No, mum,' says I, `it can't. You may, if you choose, make a muddle of it without a lawyer, but you can't do it right without one.'

”`Can you recommend one to me?' says she.

”I was greatly tickled at the notion o' the likes o' me bein' axed to recommend a lawyer. It was so like your mother's innocence and trustfulness. Howsever, she'd come to the right shop, as it happened, for I did know a honest lawyer! Yes, Betty, from the way the world speaks, an' what's often putt in books, you'd fancy there warn't such'n a thing to be found on 'arth. But that's all bam, Betty. Leastwise I know'd one honest firm. `Yes, Mrs Buxley,' says I, `there's a firm o'

the name o' Truefoot, Tickle, and Badger in the City, who can do a'most anything that's possible to man. But you'll have to look sharp, for if Edwin comes home an' diskivers what's doin', it's all up with the fortin an' Betty.'

”Well, to make a long story short, your mother went to the lawyer's, an'

had her will made, leavin' a good lump of a sum to your brother, but the most of the fortin to you. By the advice o' Truefoot Tickle, and Badger, she made it so that you shouldn't touch the money till you come to be twenty-one, `for,' says she, `there's no sayin' what bad men will be runnin' after the poor thing an deceivin' her for the sake of her money before she is of an age to look after herself.' `Yes,' thought I, `an' there's no sayin' what bad men'll be runnin' after the poor thing an' deceivin' of her for the sake of her money _after_ she's of an age to look after herself,' but I didn't say that out, for your mother was excited enough and over-anxious about things, I could see that.

”Well, when the will was made out all right, she took it out of her chest one night an' read it all over to me. I could see it was s.h.i.+pshape, though I couldn't read a word of its crabbed letters myself.

”`Now Mrs Buxley,' says I, `where are you goin' to keep that dockiment?'

”`In my chest,' says she.

”`Won't be safe there,' says I, for I knowed her forgivin' and confidin'

natur' too well, an' that she'd never be able to keep it from your brother; but, before I could say more, there was a tremendous knockin'

wi' a stick at the front door. Your poor mother turned pale--she know'd the sound too well. `That's Edwin,' she says, jumpin' up an runnin' to open the door, forgetting all about the will, so I quietly folded it up an' shoved it in my pocket.

”When Edwin was comin' up stairs I know'd he was very drunk and savage by the way he was goin' on, an' when he came into the room an' saw me he gave a yell of rage. `Didn't I tell you never to show your face here again?' says he. `Just so,' says I, `but not bein' subjec' to your orders, d'ye see, I _am_ here again.'

”Wi' that he swore a terrible oath an' rushed at me, but he tripped over a footstool and fell flat on the floor. Before he could recover himself I made myself scarce an' went home.

”Next mornin', when I'd just finished breakfast a thunderin' rap came to the door. I know'd it well enough. `Now look out for squalls,' said I to myself, as I went an' opened it. Edwin jumped in, banged the door to, an' locked it.

”`You've no occasion to do that' says I, `for I don't expect no friends--not even bobbies.'

”`You double-faced villain!' says he; `you've bin robbin' my mother!'

”`Come, come,' says I, `civility, you know, between pals. What have I done to your mother?'

”`You needn't try to deceive me, Paul,' says he, tryin' to keep his temper down. `Mother's bin took bad, wi' over-excitement, the doctor says, an' she's told me all about the fortin an' the will, an' where Betty is down at Brighton.'

”`My Betty at Brighton!' says I--pretendin' great surprise, for I had a darter at that time whom I had called after your mother, for that was her name too--but she's dead, poor thing!--she was dyin' in hospital at the very time we was speakin', though I didn't know at the time that her end was so near--`my Betty at Brighton!' says I. `Why, she's in hospital. Bin there for some weeks.'

”`I don't mean _your_ brat, but my sister,' says Edwin, quite fierce.

`Where have you put her? What's the name of the school? What have you done wi' the will?'

”`You'd better ax your mother,' says I. `It's likely that she knows the partiklers better nor me.'

”He lost patience altogether at this, an' sprang at me like a tiger.

But I was ready for him. We had a regular set-to then an' there. By good luck there was no weapons of any kind in the room, not even a table knife, for I'd had to p.a.w.n a'most everything to pay my rent, and the clasp-knife I'd eat my breakfast with was in my pocket. But we was both handy with our fists. We kep' at it for about half an hour. Smashed all the furniture, an' would have smashed the winders too, but there was only one, an' it was a skylight. In the middle of it the door was burst open, an' in rushed half a dozen bobbies, who put a stop to it at once.

”`We're only havin' a friendly bout wi' the gloves,' says I, smilin'

quite sweet.

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