"Well, then," I continued, "the widow is a resident of Puddleford, and so am I; and the widow claims a life interest in one third of my land."
Ike pondered, and rubbed his head, and looked for a long time steadily at the toes of his boots. At last a thought struck him.
"Has she any children?" inquired he.
"She has."
"Young?"
"Twelve and fourteen."
"Bad age for you," said Ike; "worse than two positive witnesses swearin' straight inter yer favor."
"But what have children to do with a principle of law?" I exclaimed, somewhat animated.
"You're green," exclaimed Ike; "you'll sprout if you get catched in a shower. What has law got ter do with a widder and two children out here? Don't you know the widder and the two children will be put right straight to the jury, and that they'll swamp you and your case, and all the la' you can bring agin 'em?"
"Very likely," said I; "but is Puddleford law all made for widows, babies, and residents?" inquired I.