“What is the matter?”
Half a dozen people started to tell what was the matter; The voice of Mr. Sahm prevailed over the rest. “There’s some people come here with too good lawyers, and they’ve raked up what they claim is laws that the rest of us won’t stand for.”
“Well now,” said Mr. Skutt, politely, “Mr. Prentice here is a very good lawyer, and perhaps he can help clear up the matter.”
So, more or less in chorus, they explained, and made known their protests at the same time. Then Mr. Ross’ lawyer, speaking ex cathedra, advised them that the statement of the law was absolutely correct, the lease as it stood would be interpreted to mean the area to the middle of the streets and alleys; but of course there was nothing to prevent their making a different arrangement if they saw fit, and so specifying in the lease.
And then the fat was in the fire; they began to argue their rights and wrongs, and their animosities flamed so hotly that they forgot even the presence of J. Arnold Ross, and of his eminent lawyer. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again,” declared Miss Snypp—“Never! Never!”
“You’ll sign if we vote it!” cried Mr. Hank.
“You try it and see!”
“You mean you think you can break the agreement?”
“I mean I’ve got a lawyer that says he can break it any day I tell him.”
“Well, I’ll say this,” put in Mr. Dibble; “speaking as a lawyer—and I think my colleagues, Mr. Prentice and Mr. Merriweather will back me—that agreement is iron-clad.”