by Berta Ruck
CHAPTER IV
THE LAWYER'S DILEMMA
"STEP this way, please," he said. With an imploring "You go first,Miss," from the heiress we "stepped" into the inner office. It was abig, handsomely carpeted room, with leather chairs. Around the wallswere shelves with black-japanned deed-boxes bearing white-letterednames. I saw little Million's eyes fly to these boxes. I know what shewas wildly thinking--that one must be hers and must contain the milliondollars of her new fortune. Beside the large cleared desk there wasstanding a fatherly looking old gentleman. He had white hair, a shrewd,humorous, clean-shaven face, and gold-rimmed glasses. He turned, with avery pleasant smile, to me.
"Good morning, Miss Million," he said. "I am very glad to have the----"
"This is Miss Million," I told him, putting my hand on her brown sleeveand giving her arm a little, heartening pat.
Million moistened her lips and drew another long breath as the fatherlyold gentleman turned the eyes and their gold-rimmed glasses upon hersmall, diffident self.
"Ah! M'm--really! Of course! How do you do, Miss Million?"
"Nicely--nicely, thanks!" breathed Million huskily.
"Won't you sit down, ladies? Yes. Now, Miss Million----"
And Mr. Chesterton began some sort of a congratulatory speech, whileMillion smiled in a frightened sort of way, breathing hard. She was fullof surprises to me that morning; and, I gathered, to her lawyer also.
"Thank you, I'm sure. Thank you, sir," she said. Then suddenly to me,"We didn't ought to--to--to keep this gentleman, did we, Miss?" Then toMr. Chesterton again, "D'you mind me asking, sir, if we 'adn't betterhave a cab?"
"A cab?" the lawyer repeated, in a startled tone. "What for?"
"To take away the money, sir," explained little Million gravely. "Thatmoney o' mine from me uncle. What I've called about."
"Ah--to take away----" began the lawyer. Then he suddenly laughedoutright. I laughed. But together we caught sight of little Million'sface, blushing and hurt, sensitive of ridicule. We stopped laughing atonce.
And then the old lawyer, looking and speaking as kindly as possible,began to explain matters to this ingenuous little heiress, aspainstakingly as if he were making things clear to a child.
"The capital of one million dollars, or of two hundred thousand poundsof English money, is at present not here; it is where it was--investedin the late Mr. Samuel Million's sausage and ham-curing factory inChicago, U. S. A."
Here Million's face fell.
"Not here. Somehow, Miss," turning to me, "I thought it never sounded asif it could be true. I thought there'd be some kind of a 'have,' sortof!"
"And, subject to your approval always, I should be inclined to allowthat capital to remain where it is," continued the old lawyer in hispolished accent. "There remains, of course, the income from the capital.This amounts, at present, to ten thousand pounds a year in Englishmoney----"
"What is that," breathed the new heiress, "what is that a quarter, sir?It seems more natural like that."
"Two thousand five hundred pounds, Miss Million."
"Lor'!" breathed the owner of this wealth. "And me that's been gettingfive pounds a quarter. That other's mine?"
"After a few necessary formalities, from which I anticipate nodifficulties," said the old gentleman.
Some discussion of these formalities followed. In the midst of it I sawMillion begin to fidget even more restlessly.
I frowned at her. This drew the attention of the old gentleman upon me.Million was murmuring something about, "Very sorry. Got to get backsoon, Miss. Lunch to lay----"
Absurd Million! As if she would ever have to lay lunch again as long asshe lived! Couldn't she realise the upheaval in her world? I gazedreproachfully at her.
The lawyer said to me quite pleasantly: "May I ask if you are a relationof Miss Million?"
Hereupon Miss Million shot at him a glance of outrage. "A relation?HER?" she cried. "The ideear!" Little Million's sense of "caste,"fostered at the Soldiers' Orphanage, is nearly as strong as my AuntAnastasia's. No matter if her secret day-dream has always been "to marrya gentleman." She was genuinely shocked that her old lawyer had notrealised the relations between her little hard-working self and ourfamily.
So she announced with simple dignity: "This is Miss Lovelace, the younglady where I am in service."
"Were in service," I corrected her.
Million took me up sharply. "I haven't given notice, Miss. I'm notleaving."
"But, you absurd Million, of course you are," I said. "You can't go onliving in Laburnum Grove now. You're a rich man's heiress----"
"Will that stop me living where I want? I'm all alone in the world,"faltered Million, suddenly looking small and forlorn as she sat there bythe big desk. "You're the only real friend I got in the world, MissBeatrice. I always liked you. You always talked to me as if you was nomore a young lady than what I was. D'you think----" Her voice shook. Sheseemed to have forgotten the presence of old Mr. Chesterton. "D'youthink I'd a-stopped so long with your Aunt Nasturtium if it hadn't beenfor not wantin' to leave where you was? I'd be lost without you. Ishouldn't know where to put myself, Miss. Oh, Miss!" There was a sob inher voice. "Don't say I got to go away from you! What am I to do withmyself and all that money?" There was a perplexed silence.
Million's lawyer glanced at me over his gold-rimmed glasses, and Iglanced back above Million's forget-me-not-wreathed hat.
It is a problem.
This little lonely, thrifty creature--brought up to such a differentidea of life--what is to be done about her now?
