“Yes, sir, that’s my business. What can I do for you?”
“Why, something of a job, I reckon. The fact is I have got into a little trouble, and want a bit of help.” And he took out a five dollar bill, and laid it on the table. The young lawyer made no motion toward taking it.
“Why don’t you take it?” said he. “I don’t call it pay, but to begin with—a kind of wedge—what do you call it?”
“Retention-fee, I presume you mean.”
“Just so, and by your taking it, you are my lawyer. So take it.”
“Not quite so fast, if you please. State your case, and then I will tell you whether or not I take the retention-fee.”
The coarse fellow stared.
“Why, mister, the case is simply this. Last spring I was doing a little business by way of selling meat. So I bought a yoke of oxen of old Maj. Farnsworth. I was to have them for one hundred dollars.”
“Very well—what became of the oxen?”
“Butchered and sold out, to be sure.”