“Oh, I won't go to law,” said Mrs. Atterson, decidedly. “No good ever come of that.”
After a time Mr. Strickland invited them both into his private office. The attorney spoke quietly of other matters while they waited for Pepper.
But the real estate man did not appear. By and by Mr. Strickland's clerk came back with the report that Pepper had been called away suddenly on important business.
“They tell me he went Saturday,” said the clerk. “He may not be back for a week. But he said he was going to buy the Atterson place when he returned—he's told several people around town so.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Strickland, slowly. “Then he has left that threat hanging, like the Sword of Damocles—over Mrs. Atterson's head?”
“I don't know nothin' about that sword, Mr. Strickland, nor no other sword, 'cept a rusty one that my father carried when he was a hoss-sodger in the Rebellion,” declared Mother Atterson, nervously. “But if that Pepper man's got one belonging to Mr. Damocles, I shouldn't be at all surprised. That Pepper looked to me like a man that would take anything he could lay his hands on—if he warn't watched!”
“Which is a true and just interpretation of Pepper's character, I believe,” observed the lawyer, smiling.
“And we've got to give up the farm at his say-so—at any time?” demanded the old lady.
“If his option is good,” said Mr. Strickland. “But I want to see the paper—and I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, that I shall subject it to the closest possible scrutiny.
“There is a possibility that Pepper's option may be questioned before the courts. Do not build too many hopes on this,” he added, quickly, seeing the old lady's face light up.