Mr. Kendrick nodded also. “It may, and probably will be, pretty close figuring at first,” he admitted, “but at least there will be no more ciphers in the sum than there were in my Manhattan calculations. Honestly now, Captain Bangs, tell me—what do you think of the idea?”
The captain seemed rather dubious.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Well, I don't know, John. East Wellmouth ain't a very big place.”
“I know that. Of course I shouldn't hope to do much in East Wellmouth alone. But it seemed to me I might do as other country lawyers have done, have an office—or a desk—in several other towns and be in those towns on certain days in the week. I think I should like to live in East Wellmouth, though. It is—not to be sentimental but just truthful—the one place I remember where I was really happy. And, as I remember too, there used to be no lawyer there.”
Captain Obed's forehead puckered.
“That's just it, John,” he said. “There is a lawyer here now. Good deal of a lawyer, too—if you ask HIM. Name's Heman Daniels. You used to know him as a boy, didn't you?”
Kendrick nodded assent.
“I think I did,” he said. “Yes, I remember him. He was one of the big boys when I was a little one, and he used to bully us small chaps.”
“That's the feller. He ain't changed his habits so much, neither. But he's our lawyer and I cal'late he's doin' well.”
“Is he? Well, that's encouraging, at any rate. And he's the only lawyer you have? Only one lawyer in a whole town. Why in New York I couldn't throw a cigar stump from my office window without running the risk of hitting at least two and starting two damage suits.”