ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS
ONE thousand dollars,” repeated Lawyer Tolman, solemnly and severely, “and here is the money.”
Young Gillian gave a decidedly amused laugh as he fingered the thin package of new fifty-dollar notes.
“It’s such a confoundedly awkward amount,” he explained, genially, to the lawyer. “If it had been ten thousand a fellow might wind up with a lot of fireworks and do himself credit. Even fifty dollars would have been less trouble.”
“You heard the reading of your uncle’s will,” continued Lawyer Tolman, professionally dry in his tones. “I do not know if you paid much attention to its details. I must remind you of one. You are required to render to us an account of the manner of expenditure of this $1,000 as soon as you have disposed of it. The will stipulates that. I trust that you will so far comply with the late Mr. Gillian’s wishes.”
“You may depend upon it,” said the young man, politely, “in spite of the extra expense it will entail. I may have to engage a secretary. I was never good at accounts.”
Gillian went to his club. There he hunted out one whom he called Old Bryson.
[75]
