Laying Plans

An heir, he thought to himself. That’s just the thing.

Hand shaking, he slopped a little milk into the cup and added the steaming tea. Too perturbed to remember sugar, he gulped half the sustaining drink and rattled the teacup back down on its saucer.

An heir, he thought again. A Will, that’s it. Must have a Will.

Earlier, Lobelia had barged in as if she owned the place. You’re not getting any younger, after all, Bilbo-my-dear, and...

Never! he hissed. Why, if Lobelia thought she’d inherit on his demise, she had another think coming.

An heir. Just the thing.