"The boy is ill, I hear," he said.
"That don't make no difference," cried Lon. "I want him jest the same. Can ye get 'em fer me, Mister?"
"I think so," replied Everett; "and, if I take the case, I shall have to ask you to keep out of it entirely, until I'm ready for you. We shall probably have to go into court."
"Yep, ye'll have to bring it into court, all right, I know ye will. How much money do ye want now?"
"Fifty dollars," replied Everett; "and it will be more if I have a suit, and still more if I win. Come here again next week Monday, and I'll lay my plans before you."
Lon clapped his shabby cap upon his head, and, with a surly leave-taking, moved to go. Lem lagged behind; but a glance at the lawyer's forbidding face sent him shuffling after the squatter.
Long after they were gone Everett sat planning a future course. He felt sure that Horace would not allow the children to be taken from him without a fight; he knew there were special statutes governing these things, and took down a large book and began to read.
Much to his satisfaction, Brimbecomb found a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Brimbecomb awaiting him at home that evening. In it his foster mother informed him that they had decided to return to Tarrytown immediately and make ready for a trip abroad, where they hoped that Mr. Brimbecomb would recover his health. In a postscript from the noted lawyer, Everett read:
I am glad that you are doing well, dear boy, and when my doctor said that I must have a complete rest I knew that I could leave you in charge of the office and go away satisfied.