“But that is exceedingly irregular,” said Snelgrove. “I am charged with the very difficult task of settling this large estate in a year; how am I to do so if my prerogatives are taken from me and information revealed and expectations raised before I have even had time to settle to the work?”

“The whole thing is irregular,” said Solly, “and Veronica and I feel that Ethel and Doris deserve any consideration we can give them. They have a right to know where they stand. We can’t possibly keep them both, or even one of them, on my salary. They must be free to take other jobs. And you might as well know that I offered to raise the money for their legacies myself, so that they could have them now. Otherwise we don’t know how long they may have to wait.”

“But if you have told them the conditions of the will, they are certain to talk,” said Snelgrove. “You know how things get around—even when nobody runs to the newspapers.”

“I know that you read my mother’s will on Christmas Eve to the four of us and that on Christmas Day quite a few people knew that I had been cut out of it,” said Solly. To his astonishment, and triumph, the other three all blushed in their various ways. “Certainly I didn’t tell anyone in that time.”

“If irresponsible talk is permitted, your Mother’s reputation may suffer,” said Miss Puss. “That ought to mean a great deal to you.”

“And so it does,” said Solly, “but I think that you will agree that my Mother has made it somewhat difficult to prevent hard things being said. People at Waverley have not stuck at saying she tricked them—led them to think they were to get a substantial sum, and then didn’t come through with it. You ought to know, Auntie Puss, that she didn’t care what anybody said, when she wanted things her own way.”

Miss Puss changed her tack. “I suppose it is inevitable, but I wish that you did not involve Veronica so much in these affairs. I suppose she sympathized with the servants without any regard for the reflection on dear Louisa.”

“Veronica is my wife, Miss Puss,” said Solly. “Mother often seemed to forget that, but there is no reason why anyone else should do so. She is in this as much as I am. I’ll tell her whatever I think proper—and that is everything.”

A fight seemed imminent, and Snelgrove intervened, choosing his point of pressure badly. “You have offered to pay Ethel and Doris legacies; what will you do for money? Have you insurance? Or savings?” He knew very well that Solly had neither.

“I have talked to my bank,” said Solly, with a smile. “They are very friendly, and are ready to lend me money on my expectations.”

“Be careful of borrowing on that security,” said Snelgrove. “You may involve yourself irretrievably. What if you never inherit?”

“You’ll excuse me if I am more optimistic about that than an older man might be,” said Solly. “I offered to get the banker a doctor’s certificate that I am—in good health; he very decently said I needn’t bother. I have a young and healthy wife. I assure you, Miss Puss and gentlemen, that I mean to inherit just as fast as I can.”

“Of course; of course,” said the Dean, and then blushed, realizing that his encouragement might be misinterpreted. He was extremely uncomfortable.

“My chief concern is that a proper regard be shown for dear Louisa’s wishes,” said Miss Puss, who had an ill-understood but powerful feeling that Solly was outraging his mother’s memory with indecent talk.

“Apparently she wished for a grandson,” said Solly, “and I am going to do everything in my power to gratify her.”

It was in this uncomfortable strain that the executors’ meetings continued. Solly called them whenever he thought it necessary. He summoned the Dean, Miss Puss and Snelgrove to tell them that Doris Black had decided to leave his employ, and that Ethel Colman meant to continue to live in the house as cook, on a reduced salary. She was already in receipt of the Old Age pension and meant to retire in another two or three years anyhow. She did not want to take another position at her time of life. Both the women had accepted his offer of a cash settlement of their legacies, and both were ready to sign a paper waiving any future claim on the estate. Snelgrove, groaning and protesting, was instructed to prepare such a paper and see it properly signed.

As he gained the commanding position among the executors, Solly developed quite a taste for meetings and schemes. He urged that they should lose no time in seeking out the beneficiary of Mrs Bridgetower’s trust. He overrode the objections of Snelgrove and Miss Puss, pointing out that the choice might be a difficult and time-taking one. After one meeting, which filled three and a half rancorous hours, he insisted that a vote be taken, giving vast offence to Snelgrove, who had a tongue but no vote. The Dean voted with Solly, and within a week a discreet notice appeared in the Bellman explaining what the trust would be empowered to do, and asking those who were interested to make application in writing to Matthew Snelgrove, solicitor to the Bridgetower Trust.

It was a major victory, but it was not achieved quickly. Three months of the precious year of grace had elapsed, and it was the beginning of April when the advertisement appeared.

Considering the care which the executors took in wording their advertisement, it was misinterpreted in a remarkable number of ways. It was clearly stated that the recipient of Mrs Bridgetower’s bounty must be female, not over twenty-one or under that age in December of the current year, and a resident of the city of Salterton. Nevertheless four young men proposed themselves; thirty-two applicants were over-age, one of them confessing to forty-six; they hailed from everywhere within the range of The Bellman’s circulation. It was made plain that the beneficiary must be a student of the fine arts, and these were defined as painting, sculpture, music, literature and architecture, and reasonable branches thereof. The applicants, who reached a total of eighty-seven, interpreted the word “reasonable” in a large and generous sense.

There were potters who wanted to study in England, and weavers who wanted to study in Sweden. There was a jeweller who did not want to be a goldsmith or a silversmith, but said she was “very hot on design”. The nearest thing to a sculptor was a young man who had done some interesting things in soap and saw no reason to go beyond this convenient medium. There were some genuine painters, and one real etcher. There were a few musicians, but all were over-age. The writers supplied depressing, ill-spelled and dirty manuscripts of their work, all of which seemed to be intended for poetry. There was one girl who wanted to be a recreation director and felt that a few years among the folk-schools of Europe would be good both for her and Europe. There were five girls who, representing themselves as writers, were in fact scholars who wanted to use the money for projects of research. There were dancers, one of them specializing in what she called “modern ballroom and tap”. There was a girl who wanted to perfect herself in the use of the piano-accordion and the electric guitar. All expressed themselves in terms of inordinate ambition unfettered by modesty, and promised great achievement if they should be chosen.

It took the executors three weeks’ work to reduce the applications to a short list. Solly could have done it in a night, but the others disapproved of his frivolous way of howling with delight or despair as he read the letters. They insisted that, in fairness to everybody and in keeping with the solemnity of their position, each letter should be read aloud and seriously discussed. This gave Miss Puss great opportunities to reflect on the quality of the young people of today, and to compare them, much to their disfavour, with the young people she had known at the turn of the century. Mr Snelgrove also felt it necessary to say his say on this congenial theme; although he complained tirelessly about the amount of time the proceeding took, he could not keep away from it. Solly explained to him that, as he was not an executor, it was not necessary for him to attend all of these sorting meetings, but the lawyer did not choose to understand the hint. It was clear that he loved it, for it fed his sense of importance. It began to appear, also, that he was proving to the ghost of Mrs Bridgetower that as she had chosen to oppress him, he could suffer with the best of them. He was also ticking up the legal expenses involved in settling her will.