"That is, Sile Bates can for her, I s'pose."
Squire Longbow dropped in at this point of the conversation. Ike arose, walked several times swiftly across the floor, turning each time with a jerk, and finally wheeling up in front of me, said his fee for opinions was one dollar.
The fee was paid.
"Now," exclaimed Ike, pushing his fee in his vest pocket, "who's the woman?"
"Old Mrs. Bridget," said I.
"There are just half a dozen defences," exclaimed Ike; "and each one will blow the case sky-high. Nobody can't set up insanity in a new country, because there ain't nothin' here to make anybody insane; and if there was, our judges and juries think a leetle too much of themselves, thick as the bushes are, to 'low a Puddlefordian to prove herself a fool in open court. There is a pride that won't permit it. Yes, sir!" Here Ike slapped the table hard by way of emphasis. "Ain't that la', Squire Longbow?" continued Ike, turning round to the Squire, who was almost magnetized by intense thought.
The Squire gave two or three ahems to clear his throat, and his voice seemed a long time on its way. "That," said the Squire, "is just what the 'mortal Story said; he never would permit a man to make a fool of himself; he went agin all such kind-er things. The 'mortal Story said, if a man don't know nothin', he oughten-ter say nothin', or do nothin'. He very specially said it warn't a safe rule to let crazy folks rip up things, 'cause how do we know, or anybody know, but they are jist as crazy when they rip 'em up, and then they'll have to be ripped over agin; that's the 'thority, sir—page—let me see—but no matter 'bout pages—"
"And, secondly," continued Ike, breaking into the Squire, "it's a rule of law that everybody's stopped by their deed; and if the woman knowed enough to sign and seal it, that 'ere seal is an everlasting and eternal bar to provin' anything agin it. That'll stop a crazy woman; that's laid down in all the books since King Richard got possession of England, and the staterts are full on it, too."
The Squire said "that looked reasonable. How do we know that Andrew Jackson warn't crazy when he signed off the patents for Puddleford. That's an open question yet. And if it warn't for the broad seal—if it warn't for that 'ere spread eagle—some whig President (and the whigs allers did say 'Old Hickory' was crazy) would set it all aside, and throw all the land titles into hotch-potch, kick me out-er house and home, and ruin all Puddleford!"
"Certainly," said I.