"What was that, Lightnin'?"
"That if they goes to court, I'll come an' be a witness. I can swear them trees was cut when you sold the property, an' I'll—"
"No, Bill!" said Marvin, putting down his knife and fork and staring at the old man, whose half-shut eyes had the suggestion of a flash in them. "No; I couldn't let you swear to anything like that."
"You can't help yourself—I got a right to swear to anythin' I want!" There was an unexpected finality in Bill's usually drawling voice.
"But I haven't got to prove when those trees were cut," said Marvin.
"I know it," Bill responded; then, catching the smiling doubt in the other's eyes, he added, "I was a lawyer once."
"Then why don't you practise?" asked Marvin, inwardly chuckling.
"Don't need no practice." And Bill resorted to his bag of tobacco and papers, rolling himself a cigarette. By this time Marvin had finished his meal.
"Look here, Lightnin'," he said, as he cleared the table, "you seem to have something on your mind. How are things going up at your place? Anybody at home know that you are here?"
"Not unless they're mind-readers."