Black and white illustration of a man being hit by a stylised bolt of lightning.

When the estate of my uncle, Alfred Fry, is finally settled, I shall give the farm to George Harris. I would not spend another night in the house for all creation. But Harris is a strange, elemental sort of man; he hated Uncle Alfred while he worked for him, and now that my uncle is gone, he hates him, still. I think it actually amuses him—and as a matter of fact, I am almost