“A law-suit?” said the farmer; “I should rather think not! There is nothing I hate so much, and I have never had a quarrel with any one in my life.”
“Then, I suppose, you want some family property fairly and justly divided?”
“I beg your pardon, sir; my family lives with me in peace, and we have no need to think of dividing our property.”
“Perhaps, then, you want some agreement drawn up about the sale or purchase of something?”
“Not at all! I am not rich enough to be purchasing property, and not poor enough to wish to sell any.”
“Then what on earth do you want me to do, my friend?” said the astonished lawyer.
“Well, Mr. Wiseman, I thought I had already told you that,” replied Bernard, with a sheepish laugh; “what I want is an opinion. I am ready to pay for it. You see, here I am in town, and it would be a great pity if I were to lose the opportunity.”
The lawyer looked at him and smiled; then taking up his pen, he asked the farmer what his name was. “Peter Bernard,” said he, quite pleased that the lawyer at last understood what he wanted.
“Your age?”
“Forty years, or somewhere about that.”