“I don’t suppose you’ll want to keep that date ... now,” purred Poppy, who can take his medicine with a grin.
“I’ll punch your head!”
“Trickery!” stormed the lawyer. “Base, degrading trickery.”
“How about yourself?” Poppy slung back.
“Shut up! And more than that, pack up—the whole caboodle of you—and git out of here.”
“That’s it, Pa. Kick ’em out. For they threw hornets at me. And water, too.”
“They’ll suffer for this!”
“Maybe not as much as you think,” Poppy stood his ground. “For we’ve got the goods on you, Mr. Lawyer Chew. A diary that we found here tells how you coaxed Mr. Danver to make a new will. You lied to him, too. He asked you to write to his granddaughter, but you never did. And the law’ll fix you for that.”
“Silence!”
“Poof!” Poppy snapped his fingers under the fat nose. “You can yell your head off, you big bag of wind, and you can’t scare me.”