Free A Tangled Web by L. M. Montgomery Page B

it.”
    Mrs. Toynbee put her handkerchief back in her bag and shut the latter with a vicious snap.
    â€œI had a deep affection for all my partners,” she said.
    Aunt Becky wagged her head.
    â€œWhy didn’t you say ‘deceased’ partners? You were thinking it, you know. You have that type of mind. Alicia, tell me honestly, don’t you think you ought to have been more economical with husbands? Three! And Poor Mercy and Margaret there haven’t been able even to get one.”
    Mercy reflected bitterly that if she had employed the methods Alicia Dark had, she might have had husbands and to spare, too. Margaret colored softly and looked piteous. Why, oh, why, must cruel old Aunt Becky hold her up to public ridicule like this?
    â€œI’ve divided all my belongings among you,” said Aunt Becky. “I hate the thought of dying and leaving all my nice things. But since it must be, I’m not going to have any quarreling over them before I’m cold in my grave. Everything’s down here in black and white. I’ve just left the things according to my own whims. I’ll read the list. And let me say that the fact that any one of you gets something doesn’t mean that you’ve no chance for the jug as well. I’m coming to that later.”
    Aunt Becky took off her spectacles, polished them, put them back on again, and took a drink of water. Drowned John nearly groaned with impatience. Heaven only knew how long it would be before she would get to the jug. He had no interest in her other paltry knick-knacks.
    â€œMrs. Denzil Penhallow is to have my pink china candlesticks,” announced Aunt Becky. “I know you’ll be delighted at this, Martha dear. You’ve given me so many hints about candlesticks.”
    Mrs. Denzil had wanted Aunt Becky’s beautiful silver Georgian candlesticks. And now she was saddled with a pair of unspeakable china horrors, in color a deep magenta-pink with what looked like black worms wriggling all over them. But she tried to look pleased, because if she didn’t, it might spoil her chances for the jug. Denzil scowled, jug or no jug, and Aunt Becky saw it. Pompous old Denzil! She would get even with him.
    â€œI remember when Denzil was about five years old he came down to my place with his mother, one day, and our old turkey gobbler took after him. I suppose the poor bird thought no one else had a right to be strutting around there. ’Member, Denzil? Lord, how you ran and blubbered! You certainly thought Old Nick was after you. Do you know, Denzil, I’ve never seen you parading up the church aisle since but I’ve thought of that.”
    Well, it had to be endured. Denzil cleared his throat and endured it.
    â€œI haven’t much jewelry,” Aunt Becky was saying. “Two rings. One is an opal. I’m giving that to Virginia Powell. They say it brings bad luck, but you’re too modern to believe that old superstition, Virginia. Though I never had any luck after I got it.”
    Virginia tried to look happy, though she had wanted the Chinese screen. As for luck or no luck, how could that matter? Life was over for her. Nobody grudged her the opal, but when Aunt Becky mentioned rings many ears were pricked up. Who would get her diamond ring? It was a fine one and worth several hundreds of dollars.
    â€œAmbrosine Winkworth is to have my diamond ring,” said Aunt Becky.
    Half those present could not repress a gasp of disapproval and the collective effect was quite pronounced. This, thought the gaspers, was absurd. Ambrosine Winkworth had no right whatever to that ring. And what good would it do her—an old broken-down servant? Really, Aunt Becky’s brain must be softening.
    â€œHere it is, Ambrosine,” said Aunt Becky, taking it from her bony finger and handing it to the trembling Ambrosine. “I’ll give it to you now, so there’ll be no mistake. Put it on.”
    Ambrosine obeyed.