Perhaps he might find Lars Berget, who worked in the stable under Carlstrom, but who was always pleasant and had a great deal to tell about the different horses. Why, there was Lars now. Johnny scarcely recognized him in his new black clothes.
“They are asking for you, John,” said Lars. “The will is going to be read now, and we must all be in the library together, they say, to hear—right and proper—who shall be master of Kingthorpe after this.”
“Can’t you and I go to the stable instead?” ventured Johnny. “It will be so in the house.”
No. Lars was firm. Johnny must go to the library.
Assembled there were the family and those who were connected with the estate in any way—the people from the Works and the , the servants of the house and from about the place. The great room was packed so full that it was barely possible for Johnny and Lars to get inside the door.
John’s uncle, the Admiral, stood at the end of the table reading from big sheets of paper. He read something about money, but Johnny Blossom could not understand a bit of what was meant, and found himself very uncomfortable squeezed in among all these grown-up people.
Suddenly he heard his own name. “John Christopher Winkel Blossom,” read the Admiral. That was Johnny’s own name exactly. Uncle Isaac had often said that there was no one among all the relatives who had the whole of the old name now except Johnny Blossom.
“It is therefore my last wish that my grand-nephew, John Christopher Winkel Blossom, inherit after me my estate of Kingthorpe, whole and undivided, including the and park, the Works, the Bay Point , the Holmen sawmill”—
The Admiral read on and on.
Lars Johnny in the side. “Just listen to that, boy!”
From the farther end of the hall came the : “Is he here? Is Johnny Blossom here?”
“Yes, here he is,” piped a , boyish voice from the .
“You are to come forward,” said the Admiral. It was so still that the of papers in the Admiral’s shaking hand could be heard throughout the immense room. Johnny Blossom squeezed himself through the .
Every one looked at him as he stood beside the Admiral—such a little boy, with comical, nose and smooth, brown hair. He looked up at his big, stalwart uncle who was reading about him, Johnny Blossom!
“I believe that this boy has the qualities that will enable him to meet rightly the serious responsibilities imposed by a large property and great wealth. His character is sound through and through, and he seems to have been endowed in his cradle with a fine understanding of the needs and sufferings of his fellowmen. If this grows, he will understand, when he himself has become a man, why Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe chose him of all others to carry forward the family traditions in this prominent station of life. God be with you, Johnny Blossom!”
The stillness of the crowded room had grown more impressive. “Do you understand?” asked the Admiral.
“No,” answered Johnny , looking up at his uncle and shaking his head energetically.
“Uncle Isaac has made you his chief heir. You are the owner of Kingthorpe, my boy.”
Johnny Blossom took instant alarm. Should he be obliged to live at Kingthorpe in these big, solemn rooms?
“No,” said he hastily—and his clear young voice, though , had a note of childish fear—“no, I don’t want to, Uncle; I don’t want to stay here now that Uncle Isaac is dead”—
“How old are you?” broke in the Admiral.
“Eleven years old in four months and”—he began to reckon exactly how many days over there were before he should be eleven years old, but he did not have time because the Admiral lifted him suddenly and stood him on the table. Right up on the top of the handsome library table!
“Here he is, friends,” said the Admiral, “for any of you to see who have not known him before, though I think you all do know him well.”
A of ran through the room. Yes, indeed. Of course they all knew Johnny Blossom.
“And we must hope,” continued the Admiral, “that this boy will fulfil all the expectations that are centered in him”—
Johnny Blossom thought that the room had become stiller than ever. A strange, wonderful feeling swept over him. There was something serious, something that he alone was to be responsible for, something expected of him that no one, no other person, could help him with.
“And with honor to his family fill that responsible position in life which great wealth will oblige him to occupy.”
“We hope, too,” went on the Admiral, “that he may have inherited also that noble spirit which was so marked a characteristic of our dear Uncle Isaac.”
There was again a moment of utter silence, through which broke suddenly Johnny Blossom’s clear little voice:
“I can never be as kind as Uncle Isaac!”
A smile went round, but Mother was crying and Father, with arms folded, was looking up earnestly at Johnny. From amidst the group of workmen, old Rolfsen, foreman at the wharf, elbowed his way to the table.
“Well,” said he, pausing after each word of his speech, as was his custom, “well, the old gentleman was a good man, as we all know—we who worked for him. He was always good to us, never anything but good. But now there is only this to say: we wish to bid this boy welcome. We know him, and it will surprise me if he does not prove the same sort as the old gentleman. And that is the reason we welcome you, Johnny Blossom.”
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CHAPTER VII A Present from Uncle Isaac
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CHAPTER IX One Day in Vacation.
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