Sam. Don't fergit what she looks like, 'specially the red hair."
Lawyer Rackshaw was seated at his office desk as Abner entered. He rose briskly to his feet, and grasped the farmer by the hand.
"I've just come in," he told him, "and am enjoying my usual morning smoke. Sit right down and have a cigar."
"Another ten-center, eh?" Abner queried, as he sat down, crossed his legs, bit off the end of the Havana, and struck a match.
"Yes, Mr. Andrews, it's the real thing, all right. I was quite certain you would call to-day, and so had it ready. You received my letter?"
"Sure; that's why I'm here. I allus hustle when I git a letter from a lawyer jist the same as I do when a hen hollers, fer then I know a hawk's after her. It's a sure sign there's somethin' important astir."
A peculiar smile lurked in the lawyer's eyes as he reached out and picked up a paper lying upon the desk.
"I hope this is not a case of the hen and the hawk," he replied, as he tilted back in his chair and bent his eyes on the paper.
"Hope not," Abner sighed, as he blew forth a great cloud of smoke. "But, then, one kin never tell."
"This has merely to do with the new Orphan Home," the lawyer explained, "and no matter what tricks there might be in other matters, there must be nothing shady in a transaction where poor helpless children are concerned."
"Ye're sartinly right," Abner assented. "When it comes to the care of poor little orphans everythin' must be squared with the great Golden Rule, as old Parson Shaw used to say. How's the Home gittin' along, anyway?"
"First rate. It's in connection with that I wish to speak to you to-day."
"I thought so. Is the buildin' up yit?"
"Oh, no. It's been such a short time since the meeting that we've been able to do little more than settle upon a suitable situation for the institution. We have given considerable thought to the matter, and are most fortunate in obtaining a plot of ground at a very reasonable cost."
"Cost!" Abner exclaimed in astonishment. "Will it cost anythin' fer a piece of ground fer the Home? Why, there's lots of idle land in this town."
"But none so suitable as the one we have settled upon. And it is reasonable, too, considering the many advantages connected with it, such as the fine view, and the distance from private dwellings. It will cost us only one thousand dollars for such a situation as that."
"One thousand dollars!" Abner almost leaped out of his chair. "Good Lord! Has this town come to that, when it wants one thousand dollars fer a piece of ground fer an Orphan Home! Where is this wonderful spot, I'd like to know, an' who owns it?"
"It lies just outside of the town, near the creek, and is a part of the land owned by Mr. Henry Whittles."
"What! The dump?"
"Well, you see, it's not all dump, as there is more land surrounding it which will make an excellent playground for the children."
"An' Hen Whittles wants one thousand dollars fer that?"
"He says he is willing to let it go at that sum, considering what it is to be used for."
"He is sartinly generous. An' so I s'pose ye want the money I offered to pay fer it, eh?"
"Yes, if you can find it convenient to let us have it now. As soon as we get the matter of the land settled we can rush the building along."
This was more than Abner could stand. His pent-up wrath and righteous indignation could be controlled no longer. Bounding from his seat, he towered above the legal light of Glucom. He thrust out his big right hand toward the lawyer's face, forgetting in his excitement that the fingers of that hand clutched the partly smoked cigar. He hardly realized what he was doing. But the lawyer did, and when the hot end of the cigar came into sudden contact with the tip of his nose, he emitted a yell of pain and lurched violently back in an effort to escape the onslaught. The result was most disastrous, for the sudden recoil sent swivel-chair and occupant backwards upon the floor.
With as much dignity as possible the lawyer picked himself up, righted the chair, and sat down again. He was mad, and longed to turn his sharp tongue upon the cause of the disaster. But he was shrewd enough to control his temper, and pretend to make light of the mishap. He would get more than even in due time. But the end of his nose was smarting painfully, and he could not keep his fingers away from the injured member.
Abner was at first surprised at the lawyer's sudden collapse. Then a smile lightened his face.
"De ye do that every day?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Cut up sich capers. Regular mornin' exercise, I s'pose."
"Certainly not. Do you think I'm accustomed to having a hot cigar dashed into my nose every morning?"
"Well, it's not altogether likely, oh, no. But judgin' by the color of ye'r nose I'd say it's been affected by somethin' more fiery than a hot ten-cent cigar."
"Ye do, eh?" The lawyer was visibly irritated now.
"I sure do. But that was an inward application, while mine was outward. It was merely a touch of Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, an' when an' where he touches there's ginerally somethin' doin' which ain't allus pleasant to the feelin's, either."
"I hope your touch is not always as hot as the one you just applied to my nose, anyway," the lawyer replied.
"Oh, it's a dam sight hotter sometimes, let me tell ye that, 'specially when there's somethin' crooked afoot."
"What are you driving at?"
"What am I drivin' at? Why, at that Orphan Home affair. It jist twists me all to pieces when I think of Hen Whittles wantin' one thousand dollars fer that dump of his, an' him one of the richest men in Glucom, at that."
"But surely you don't expect him to give it for nothing, do you?" the lawyer queried.
"An' why not? It's worth nuthin', an' what's more, Hen Whittles should be fined fer keepin' sich a disgraceful place so near town. Every time I drive past that spot I have to hold me nose, the smell is so bad. An' sich a mess of stuff! Tin cans, dead cats an' dogs, an' every blamed thing that isn't of any use is dumped there. It'd take more'n a thousand dollars to clean it up. The Board of Health should git after Hen an' make him squirm like an angle-worm on a hook."
"But what are we going to do about it?" the lawyer asked, now greatly annoyed.
"Do about it?" Abner roared, rising to his feet. "Why, git a decent place, of course. There's lots of land in town fer that Home without puttin' it on top of a stinkin' dump."
"But suppose we can't get any other place?"
"Then come to Ash Pint. If the people of this town are as mean as all that, I'll give 'em all the land they want fer the Home. An' it'll be clean land, too, with a great view, plenty of fresh air, an' the river right near where the youngsters kin swim. That's all I've got to say."
Abner picked up his hat and started for the door when the lawyer detained him.
"Surely you're not going to back down," he coolly remarked.
"Back down! On what?"
"On the offer you made, that is, the money you promised to give for the Home."
"Back down! No! Did ye ever hear of Abner Andrews backin' down? I'm jist buckin' up, that's what I'm doin'. I'm not goin' to give a red cent fer Hen Whittles' stinkin' dump, so you an' the rest of the gang kin chew on that fer a while."
CHAPTER IX
A SLIP OF A GAL
When Abner had closed the door behind him, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at his watch. He had half an hour to spare before the arrival of the train, and that would allow him plenty of time to visit the dump, and give it a thorough inspection. He was mad, and to look again upon the mass of rubbish collected there would afford him considerable satisfaction.