Meanwhile Riles, stampeding down town, reached the door of Bradshaw’s office. Bradshaw stood on the step drinking in the afternoon autumn sunshine. The warm rays rested graciously on his slightly bald cranium.
“Good-day, Mr. Riles. How is it you’re not cutting to-day?”
Riles collected himself, and forced a smile. “A little business in town, Mr. Bradshaw. I’ve just been in talkin’ with that measly opposition o’ yours, and what d’ye s’pose the cur did?”
“Who, Perkins? Oh, you can never tell what he’ll do. I gave it up long ago.”
“Well, sir, we was just talkin’ about things in general an’ I told him likely there’d be a case one of these days about a man quittin’ before his time was up, an’ I asked him how’d it likely come out. He said the quitter would lose, an’ yuh can eat me, Bradshaw, if he didn’t try to charge me five dollars fer it, and threatened soot if I didn’t pay by Saturday night.”
Bradshaw laughed. “You can never be up to Perkins,” he said. “But I must say it serves you right for going to him at all. Why didn’t you come to me in the first place?”
“That’s what I will do next time, you may be sure. But he can’t collect that five, can he, George?”
“I’m afraid he can, Hiram. Yes, I rather think you’d better settle with him.”
“Well, it’s a strange law. Lawyers get everything their own way.”
“Once in awhile it happens that way,” Mr. Bradshaw agreed. “And when you’re settling anyway there will be a ten-spot coming to me.”