Mrs. Tree's Will — Background and Themes

The Hollopeter Brothers as Foils

The excerpts present two brothers who could not be more different. Mr. Homer Hollopeter is a creature of sighs, sky-blue neckties, and plaintive looks; he speaks in hesitant dashes and seeks 'an outlet to imprisoned nature.' His brother, Mr. Pindar Hollopeter, is all dramatic fire and theatrical gesture. When asked to help spare Homer a visit from their cousin Maria Pryor, Pindar responds with a flourish: 'Conspiracy is the soul of Drama.' He listens at keyholes, peers out windows, and speaks in exclamations like 'Perish the thought!' and 'Strike home!' The contrast between the brothers—one shrinking, one expansive—creates a central comic tension. Their shared surname and family ties bind them, but their temperaments pull in opposite directions, making every interaction a small performance.

Gossip as Narrative Engine

The chapter titles themselves—'What the Men Said,' 'What the Women Said,' 'Mostly Gossip'—signal that talk, not action, drives the story. The village functions as a chorus of voices, each with a distinct perspective on Mrs. Tree's death and its aftermath. Mrs. Weight, described as 'a person not connected with the family,' is eager to supply information, while the minister prefers to hear from Homer directly. The excerpts show a community where news travels fast and is filtered through personal biases. The will is less a legal document than a topic for endless speculation. Richards captures the rhythm of small-town conversation, where a single event generates multiple, often conflicting, narratives. This focus on talk rather than plot mechanics gives the novel a layered, social texture.

Theatricality and the 'Dramatic Moment'

Mr. Pindar Hollopeter explicitly frames events as drama. He announces 'The Dramatic Moment strikes' and treats the plan to divert Mrs. Pryor as a conspiracy requiring a 'counter-sign.' His language—'Ye gods! Strike home!'—is lifted from melodrama, and his actions—listening at keyholes, peering out windows—are stage business. Yet Richards undercuts this theatricality with a knowing wink: Pindar's eyes have 'a twinkle in the black depths of them,' and his listeners respond with 'responsive twinkle.' The novel itself seems aware of its own artifice, balancing genuine emotion with self-conscious performance. Even the parrot's indisposition and the letter from 'little Vesta' feel like props in a larger comedy of manners. This self-awareness prevents the story from becoming merely sentimental or farcical.

Readers will find that the will itself is almost incidental to the human comedy it sets in motion. Pay attention to the way characters speak—their hesitations, flourishes, and asides—as much as what they say. The novel rewards those who enjoy watching a community talk itself into and out of trouble, one theatrical gesture at a time.

That rainy afternoon, Mrs. Tree's Will felt less like a plot and more like the weather itself—gossip dripping through shingles, the Hollopeter brothers circling each other like cats. I closed it, watching water streak the glass, and remembered an old secondhand copy of When Love Calls — Story, Setting & Ideas tucked behind my novels. Its quieter ache seemed to answer something. I didn’t plan it; the rain just made me reach.