It was evident
there was no will. Solon had neglected to attend to that matter until
it was too late.... Scattergood wiggled his feet uneasily and stared at
the motto over the door.
"Solon didn't run much to religion," he observed.
"No," said Mary Beatty.
"Um!... Have a Bible, maybe? One of them big ones?"
"Up in his room, Mr. Baines. It always laid on the table
there--unopened."
"Opened it yourself lately, Mary? Been readin' the Scriptures out of
that p'tic'lar book?"
"No."
"Um!... Got a kind of a hankerin' to read a verse or two," said
Scattergood. "Come on, Bob. You 'n' me'll peruse Solon's Bible some."
The huge Bible with its Dore illustrations lay on the marble-topped
table in old Solon's bedroom. Scattergood opened it--found it stiff with
lack of use, its pages clinging together as if their gilt edging had
never been broken.... Bob leaned over Scattergood while the old man
rapidly thumbed the pages.... He brought to light a pressed flower, and
shrugged his shoulders. What moment of softness in the life of a hard
old man did this flower commemorate?... A letter whose ink was faded to
illegibility! Even Solon Beatty had once known the rose-leaf scent of
romance.
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