A Tangled Web by L. M. Montgomery

saying.
    â€œThank the pigs,” thought Drowned John fervently.
    Aunt Becky looked over the room gloatingly. She had prolonged her sport as long as it was possible. She had got them just where she wanted them—all keyed up and furious—all except a few who were beyond the power of her venom and whom for that reason she did not despise. But look at the rest of them—squatting there on their ham-bones, pop-eyed, coveting the jug, ready to tear in pieces the one who got it. In a few minutes the lucky one would be known, they thought. Ah, would he? Aunt Becky chuckled. She still had a bomb to throw.
    11
    â€œYou’re all dying to know who is to get the jug,” she said, “but you’re not going to know yet awhile. I did intend to tell you today who I meant to have it, but I’ve thought of a better plan. I’ve decided to leave the jug in keeping of a trustee until a year from the last day of next October. Then, and not till then, you’ll find out who’s to get it.”
    There was a stunned silence—broken by a laugh from Stanton Grundy.
    â€œSold!” he said laconically.
    â€œWho’s the trustee?” said William Y. hoarsely. He knew who should be trustee.
    â€œDandy Dark. I’ve selected him because he is the only man I ever knew who could keep a secret.”
    Everyone looked at Robert Dark, who squirmed uncomfortably, thus finding himself the center of observation. Everybody disapproved. Dandy Dark was a nobody—his nickname told you that. It was a hangover from the days when he had been a dandy—something nobody would ever dream of calling the fat, shabby, old fellow now, with his double chin, his unkempt hair and his flabby, pendulous cheeks. Only his little, deep-set, beady black eyes seemed to justify Aunt Becky’s opinion of his ability to keep a secret.
    â€œDandy is to be the sole executor of my will and the custodian of the jug until a year from the last day of next October,” repeated Aunt Becky. “That’s all the rest of you are to know about it. I’m not going to tell you how it will be decided then. It is possible that I may leave Dandy a sealed letter with the name of the legatee in it. In that case Dandy may know the name or he may not know it. Or it is equally possible that I may leave instructions in that same sealed letter that the ownership is to be settled by lot. And again, I may empower Dandy to choose for himself who is to have the jug, always bearing in his mind my opinions and prejudices regarding certain people and certain things. So in case I have chosen the last alternative, it behooves you all to watch your step from now on. The jug may not be given to anyone older than a certain age or to any unmarried person who, in my judgment, should be married, or to any person who has been married too much. It may not be given to anyone who has habits I don’t like. It may not be given to anyone who quarrels or wastes his time fiddling. It may not be given to anyone addicted to swearing or drinking. It may not be given to any untruthful person or any dishonest person or any extravagant person. I’ve always hated to see anyone wasting money, even if it wasn’t mine. It may not be given to anyone who has no bad habits and never did anything disgraceful”—with a glance in the direction of the impeccable William Y. “It may not be given to anyone who begins things and never finishes them, or to anyone who writes bad poetry. On the other hand, these things may not influence in the slightest my decision or Dandy’s decision. And of course if the matter is to be decided by lot, it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do. And finally it may go to somebody who doesn’t live on the Island at all. Now, you know as much about it as you’re going to know.”
    Aunt Becky sank back on her pillows and enjoyed their expressions. Nobody dared say anything but how they thought! And