"An' Hen Whittles wants one thousand dollars fer that?"
"He says he is willing to let it go at that sum, considering what it is to be used for."
"He is sartinly generous. An' so I s'pose ye want the money I offered to pay fer it, eh?"
"Yes, if you can find it convenient to let us have it now. As soon as we get the matter of the land settled we can rush the building along."
This was more than Abner could stand. His pent-up wrath and righteous indignation could be controlled no longer. Bounding from his seat, he towered above the legal light of Glucom. He thrust out his big right hand toward the lawyer's face, forgetting in his excitement that the fingers of that hand clutched the partly smoked cigar. He hardly realized what he was doing. But the lawyer did, and when the hot end of the cigar came into sudden contact with the tip of his nose, he emitted a yell of pain and lurched violently back in an effort to escape the onslaught. The result was most disastrous, for the sudden recoil sent swivel-chair and occupant backwards upon the floor.
With as much dignity as possible the lawyer picked himself up, righted the chair, and sat down again. He was mad, and longed to turn his sharp tongue upon the cause of the disaster. But he was shrewd enough to control his temper, and pretend to make light of the mishap. He would get more than even in due time. But the end of his nose was smarting painfully, and he could not keep his fingers away from the injured member.
Abner was at first surprised at the lawyer's sudden collapse. Then a smile lightened his face.
"De ye do that every day?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Cut up sich capers. Regular mornin' exercise, I s'pose."