Mrs. Sage came out of a dark reverie to inquire blandly of Mrs. Gooch if she was intending to spend the night.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Baxter’s sister. “I’ve had my things on and off three times.”
Mr. Link pondered aloud. “If little Oliver grows up to be as wise as Solomon, as she seems to think, I’ll bet my last cent he’ll be able to get around any law that ever was made.”
Suddenly Baxter startled them all by slapping his leg resoundingly. His face was beaming.
“By ginger, I’ve thought of a way to upset that doggoned prophecy. I’ll wait till little Oliver is purty well grown up and then I’ll up and move to a state where they don’t have capital punishment. Gosh! I wish I’d thought of that before she got away. It would have taken a lot of wind out of her sails, wouldn’t it?”
Mr. Gooch put a dampener on this. “I don’t see how that would help any if a mob took him out of jail and lynched him. They say lynching is getting worse all the time in this part of the country.”
Whereupon Mr. Sikes arose and said something under his breath, adding an instant later:
“Don’t let me hear anything about Solomon being so dodgasted wise. Look at all the brother-in-laws he must have taken unto himself—and with his eyes open, too.”