“I didn’t!”
“You did!”
“I——”
Once more the Judge’s hand came up. “Jim,” he began, “far’s I’m concerned, I’m pretty helpless in this case. All over this country the law is plain as day on this point: The feller that’s sentenced to pay alimony, and don’t pay, gits sold out or sent to the cooler.”
“I’m goin’ to Canada to live,” declared Luce hotly. “Here she’s got plenty, an’ still the United States law allows her to hector me. W’y, she owns a string of gold nuggets as long as your arm—her paw gave ’em to her. Them nuggets is worth a lot. She don’t have to come to me.”
“My father dug that string up with his own hands,” said Mrs. Luce. “It was the last thing he ever gave me. And”—with exasperating finality—“it won’t be sold.”
“Wal, borrow on it,” suggested Luce wrathfully. “Judge, I can’t put my pears on to the cars when they’re greener’n cucumbers. Ask Homer if there’s a man in this hull Valley that’s shippin’ pears.”
Mrs. Luce smiled. “Jim’d lie and Homer’d swear to it,” she observed with a knowing nod and a wink.
The Judge gave her a look of grave reproval. “Nobody’s ever caught Homer Scott swearin’ to a lie,” he contradicted coldly.
The round face of Luce brightened, and he hastened to take advantage of the Judge’s evident displeasure. “That’s the kind of wild talk she’s allus gittin’ off,” he declared. “She don’t have nothin’ to do but talk. Here I am, a hard-workin’ man, an’ have to support her. She don’t even come down to the ranch an’ help pack fruit.”