“Yes, Effie was the youngest,” answered Trabue, “and she stepped over the line last Tuesday. There's her signature in black and white. The deed's all right. I don't draw up any other sort.” Alan went to his father and leaned over him. “Father,” he said, softly, and yet with firmness, “I wish you'd not act hastily in this deal. You ought to consider mother's wishes, and she is nearly distracted over it.” Bishop was angry. His massive, clean-shaven face was red. “I'd like to know what I'd consult her fer,” he said. “In a matter o' this kind a woman's about as responsible as a suckin' baby.” Trabue laughed heartily. “Well, I reckon it's a good thing your wife didn't hear that or she'd show you whether she was responsible or not. I couldn't have got the first word of that off my tongue before my wife would 'a' knocked me clean through that wall.” Alfred Bishop seemed not to care for levity during business hours, for he greeted this remark only with a frown. He scanned the paper again and said: “Well, ef thar's any flaw in this I reckon you 'll make it right.” “Oh yes, I 'll make any mistake of mine good,” returned Trabue. “The paper's all right.” “You see,” said Alan to the lawyer, “mother and I think father has already more of this sort of property than he can carry, and--” “I wish you and yore mother'd let my business alone,” broke in Bishop, firing up again. “Trabue heer knows I've been worryin' 'im fer the last two months to get the property in salable shape. Do you reckon after he gets it that away I want to listen to yore two tongues a-waggin' in open opposition to it?” Trabue rubbed his hands together. “It really don't make a bit of difference to me, Alan, one way or the other,” he said, pacifically. “I'm only acting as attorney for the Tompkins estate, and get my fee whether there's a transfer or not. That's where I stand in the matter.” “But it's not whar I stand in it, Mr. Trabue,” said a firm voice in the doorway. It was Mrs. Bishop, her blue eyes flashing, her face pale and rigid. “I think I've got a right--and a big one--to have a say-so in this kind of a trade. A woman 'at 's stayed by a man's side fer thirty odd yeer an' raked an' scraped to he'p save a little handful o' property fer her two children has got a right to raise a rumpus when her husband goes crooked like Alfred has an' starts in to bankrupt 'em all jest fer a blind notion o' his'n.” “Oh, thar you are!” said Bishop, lifting his eyes from the paper and glaring at her over his glasses. “I knowed I'd have to have a knock-down-an'-drag-out fight with you 'fore I signed my name, so sail in an' git it over. Trabue's got to ride back to town.”