My father gave a loud hurrah! “Blessed be Heaven that the rout came before the old fool completed the New Zealand business!”

“’As heir-at-law, you are in direct remainder, and the will, not being executed, is merely wastepaper:  but, from the draft, the intentions of your inestimable aunt can clearly be discovered.  Although not binding in law, let me say there is such a thing as Christian equity that should guide you.  The New Zealand bequest, involving a direct application of 10,000l. to meet the annual expenditure of gospel-soldiers—­there being a constant drain upon these sacred harbingers of peace, from the native fancy of preferring a deviled missionary to a stewed kangaroo—­that portion of the intended testament I would not press upon you.  But the intentional behests of 500l. to the Rev. Carter Kettlewell, the same sum to myself, and an annuity to Miss Grace Lightbody of 50l. a year, though not recoverable in law, under these circumstances should be faithfully confirmed.

“’It may be gratifying to acquaint you with some particulars of the last moments of your dear relative, and one of the most devout, nay, I may use the term safely, evangelical elderly gentlewomen for whom I have had the honor to transact business.’”

“Stop, Frank.  Pass over the detail.  It might be too affecting.”

“’I await your directions for the funeral.  My lamented friend and client had erected a catacomb in the Siloam Chapel, and in the minister’s vault, and she frequently expressed a decided wish that her dust might repose with faithful servants, who, in season and out of season, fearlessly grappled with the man of sin, who is arrayed in black, and the woman who sitteth on the seven hills, dressed in scarlet.’”

“Hang the canting vagabond—­why not call people by their proper titles; name Old Nick at once, and the lady whose soubriquet is unmentionable, but who, report says, has a town residence in Babylon.”

Constance and I laughed; my mother, as usual, looking demure and dignified.  Another twinge of the gout altogether demolished the commander’s temper.

“Stop that scoundrel’s jargon.  Run your eye over the remainder, and tell me what the fellow’s driving at.”

I obeyed the order.

“Simply, sir, Mr. Sly desires to know whether you have any objection to old Kitty taking peaceable possession of her catacomb in the Dublin gospel-shop which she patronized, or would you prefer that she were ‘pickled and sent home,’ as Sir Lucius says.”

“Heaven forbid that I should interfere with her expressed wishes,” said my father.  “I suppose there’s ‘snug lying’ in Siloam; and there’s one thing certain, that the company who occupy the premises are quite unobjectionable.  Kitty will be safer there.  Lord! if the gentleman in black, or the red lady of the seven hills attempted a felonious entry on her bivouac, what a row the saintly inmates would kick up!  It would be a regular