“None iv that here!” he said sternly.
The justice looked from one to the other of the parties before him, closed an impressive-looking law book with a bang, and stood up, feeling for his tobacco-pipe in his hip pocket.
“Flaherty,” he said slowly, “this is not a case for this court. It seems in the nature of a domestic misunderstanding. Under ordinary circumstances,” he added, pressing tobacco into the pipe with his thumb, “I should undertake to explain to all parties just what happened and how it happened and why it happened but—” he looked at old Noah and shook his head—“there is nothing in the statutes of the State of Iowa compelling a justice of the peace of the County of Riverbank, City of Riverbank and Township of Riverbank, to shout that loud and that long. Case dismissed!”
Flaherty herded the three parties out of the room and the justice lighted his pipe.
“Whaffo’ Ah ain’ git mah thutty dollahs?” he heard Uncle Noah ask in the hall. “Wha’ we gwine?”
“Ah tell yo’ wha’ yo’ ain’ gwine!” he heard Sally shout. “You ain’ gwine to hebben yit! But yo’ gwine to wish yo’ was gwine ’fo’ Ah git froo wif yo’!”
“Flaherty,” said his Honor, tilting back comfortably and blowing a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling, “go out and warn that woman to keep the peace.”
“I will,” said Flaherty, “but can ye ixpict ut iv her, Murphy?”
