"Why I thought I'd put up at the tavern, just as I did last night," rejoined Mr. Vanter.
"Not much, ye won't," interposed Mr. Kimball. "I ain't goin' t' hev a friend a' mine eatin' th' kind a fodder ye'll find up at th' Pine Tree. Ye're comin' home 'ith me. I guess we'll be able t' give ye suthin' t' eat, 'n' a place t' sleep."
"Well, if you insist," agreed Mr. Vanter, to whom the prospect of another night in the tavern, under the same roof with Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley, was not a pleasant one. So he and Mr. Kimball went back to the big, comfortable farmhouse, where a smoking-hot supper was waiting for them. And Mr. Vanter did full justice to the tender chicken, fried crisp in sweet butter, the salt-rising bread, the buckwheat honey, the preserved plums, the generously frosted fruit and chocolate cakes, and a lot besides.
"It's the best meal I've had in a year," he told the delighted Mrs. Kimball, while Clara blushed at the praise bestowed on her cakes.
Every one was up early next morning, and, soon after breakfast, Squire Bimmer came along, bearing his seal as Commissioner of Deeds, his law books, and various legal papers.
"I don't calalate I'll hev much need a' this," said the squire, indicating his seal.
"I hope not," replied Mr. Vanter. "But we can't tell. It all depends on Mrs. Kimball," and he smiled a little as he said this.
"Wa'al I guess I kin make out t' act jest 's ye told me to," remarked that lady. "Ye needn't be afraid a' me goin' back on ye."
"No danger," chuckled Mr. Kimball.
It was about ten o'clock, when Mr. Ranquist, accompanied by Mr. Dudley and a lawyer, appeared at the farmhouse. They were led into the parlor, a table was cleared, and Mr. Vanter, Mr. Kimball, and Squire Bimmer drew up close to it. Mr. Ranquist glared at Mr. Vanter, and smiled in an easy sort of fashion, as though he already had the property in his possession. He slowly drew from his valise a bundle of bank-bills.