"I hope you may. Thank you for the intention, any way."
"Are you going all alone, Harris?" asked Edwards, as he accompanied him a short distance from the house. "It is not quite safe going alone, is it? Have you any heirs, supposing you lose yourself or break your neck?"
Once more Jim was electrified with an idea. His light, gray eyes turned on his questioner with a sudden flash of intelligence:
"I mought choose my heir, I reckon."
"Certainly."
"Mought we go back to the house, an' make a will?"
"Aren't you afraid turning back so often may spoil your luck?" asked Edwards, laughing.
"Ef you think so, I'll never do it," answered Jim, soberly. "But I'll tell you, onct fur all, who it is shall be my heir if any thing chance me, an' I'll expect you'll act on the squar: that person is Miss Mary Edwards, your own sister, an' you'll not go fur to dispute my will?"
"I've no right to dispute your will, whether I approve of it or not. There will be no proof of it, however, and I could not make over your property to my sister, should there be other heirs with a natural and rightful claim to it. But you are not going to make your will just yet, Harris; so, good-by. You'll be home on Christmas?"
"I reckon I will."