"It's all a huge joke, that's what this damphule will is," said Briggs gloomily.
"Of course the suffrage part of it is a joke. The state constitution is plain on that question. Only males can vote," Acres agreed.
"But, hang it! They've got this vast estate, which affects every business interest in this town, and the devil only knows what they will do with it!" exclaimed Coleman.
"Ask your wife," Sasnett suggested.
"I did ask Mabel," Acres admitted.
"What'd she say?"
"Said they'd collect the rents and interest first thing."
Sasnett laughed, and Briggs seized his hat and left the room with the air of an injured man.
While these desultory conferences were being held all over the town Monday morning, where two or three were gathered together on the streets, Susan Walton was sitting opposite Judge Regis in his office. Her knees were wide apart, her hands folded above her fat stomach. She had untied her bonnet strings, which was a bad-weather indication.
The Judge was listening with his eye fixed keenly upon her, the hair above his temples sticking out like owl's ears.