"Title, huh?" struck in Racey, unable to keep silent. "Not yet you ain't."
"S-s-sh," breathed Molly, tightening her grip on his wrist.
"It's like I say, Mis' Dale," Luke Tweezy burred on from behind his handkerchief, "I ain't got any wish to add to yore troubles, and so I got my partner to agree for me to give you five hundred dollars cash money if you'll pack up and clear out quiet and peaceful."
"Don't you do it, Mis' Dale!" urged Racey. "There's a trick in that offer."
"They ain't any trick!" contradicted Luke Tweezy, vehemently. "I just wanna save trouble, thassall."
Save trouble! That had been Lanpher's reason for coming the day he rode through the garden. Save trouble, indeed.
"If yo're so shore the sheriff is going to serve those eviction papers," said Racey as calmly as he could because of the warning pressure on his wrist, "if yo're so shore why are you giving away five hundred?"
"Because I don't like to be hard on Mis' Dale. Then, again, I'll admit we wanna get in here soon as we can."
"You admit it, huh? That's a good one, that is. Don't you do it, Mis'
Dale. You stand pat."
"I don't want your five hundred dollars," said Mrs. Dale.