“Modestly?” exclaimed Vandover, scornfully.

“You’ll have to rent the house and take rooms.”

Vandover gave a gasp of relief.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he answered, subsiding at once.  “How much would it bring—­the house?”

The lawyer hesitated as to this.  “That I could hardly tell you definitely,” he answered, shaking his head.  “Adams & Brunt could give you more exact figures.  In fact, I would suggest that you put it into their hands.  California near Franklin, isn’t it?  Yes; the neighbourhood isn’t what it used to be, you know.  Every one wants to live out on Pacific Heights now.  Double house?  Yes, well—­with the furniture, I suppose—­oh, I don’t know—­say, a hundred and fifty.  But, you know, my estimate is only guesswork.  Brunt is the man you want to see.”

“Well,” answered Vandover, solaced, “that makes—­two thirty-four; that’s more like it.  But,” he added, hastily, “you say the homestead is mortgaged as well; how about the interest on that?”

“You needn’t be bothered about that,” answered Mr. Field.  “The interest on that mortgage is included in the two hundred and ninety that I spoke of, and the insurance interest on the homestead is included in Adams & Brunt’s statement.  That was on the whole estate with the homestead, you understand?  But there is another thing you must look out for.  Most of the mortgages are for one year, and every time they are renewed there is an expense of between forty and fifty dollars.”

“Yes, I see,” assented Vandover.

“Now,” resumed the lawyer, “here is your father’s bank account.  He had in the First National to his credit between nine and ten thousand dollars; nine thousand seven hundred and ninety, to be exact.  His professional account book shows that there is now due him in bills and notes eight hundred and thirty dollars; on the debit side he owes in all nine hundred; the difference, you see, is seventy.  Nine thousand seven hundred and ninety less seventy leaves a balance of nine thousand seven hundred and twenty.  All clear?” he asked, interrupting himself.  Vandover nodded and the other continued: 

“Now, your father left a will; here it is.  I drew it for him a year ago last September.  He has given fifteen hundred dollars to some cousin in the southern part of the state, and six hundred to a few charities here in the city.  The remainder, seven thousand five hundred and twenty, and all the rest of the estate is left to you with the wish that you pursue your art studies abroad.  Brunt, of Adams & Brunt, and myself are appointed executors.  So now, that is just how you stand as far as I can see:  seventy-five hundred dollars in ready money and, if we suppose you rent the California Street house, income property that nets you two hundred and thirty-four a month.  The will will have to be probated some time next month and you will have to appear; however, I shall let you know about that in time.”