Jane, who was in the doorway as they entered the yard, was the one to welcome them, although Dode, watchful and working in a nearby patch, saluted them next. Then Mrs. Queeder examined them cynically and with much opposition. These, then, were the twain who were expecting to misuse her financially! “Where’s your father, Dode?” asked Attorney Giles familiarly, for he knew them well. “Over thar in the second ’tater patch,” answered Dode sourly. A moment later he added with rough calculation, “Ef ye’re comin’ about the land, though, I ’low ez ’twon’t do yuh no good. Maw an’ Paw have decided not tuh sell. The place is wuth a heap more’n whut you all’re offerin’. They’re sellin’ land roun’ Arno with not near ez much min’l onto hit ez this hez for three hundred now, an’ yuh all only wanta give two thousan’ fer the hull place, I hyur. Maw’n Paw’d be fools ef they’d agree tuh that.” “Oh, come now,” exclaimed Giles placatively and yet irritably—a very wasp who was always attempting to smooth over the ruffled tempers of people on just such trying occasions as this. “Mr. Crawford here has an option on this property signed by your mother and father and witnessed by a Mr.”—he considered the slip—“a Mr. Botts—oh, yes, Lester Botts. You cannot legally escape that. All Mr. Crawford has to do is to offer you the money—leave it here, in fact—and the property is his. That is the law. An option is an option, and this one has a witness. I don’t see how you can hope to escape it, really.” “They wuzn’t nuthin’ said about no min’l when I signed that air,” insisted Mrs. Queeder, “an’ I don’t ’low ez no paper whut I didn’t know the meanin’ uv is goin’ tuh be good anywhar. Leastways, I won’t put my name onto nuthin’ else.” “Well, well!” said Mr. Giles fussily, “We’d better get Mr. Queeder in here and see what he says to this. I’m sure he’ll not take any such unreasonable and illegal view.” In the meantime old Queeder, called for lustily by Jane, came edging around the house corner like some hunted animal—dark, fearful, suspicious—and at sight of him the prospector and lawyer, who had seated themselves, arose. “Well, here we are, Mr. Queeder,” said the prospector, but stopped, astonished at the weird manner in which Queeder passed an aimless hand over his brow and gazed almost dully before him. He had more the appearance of a hungry bird than a human being. He was yellow, emaciated, all but wild. “Look at Paw!” whispered Jane to Dode, used as she was to all the old man’s idiosyncrasies. “Yes, Mr. Queeder,” began the lawyer, undisturbed by the whisper of Jane and anxious to smooth over a very troublesome situation, “here we are. We have come to settle this sale with you according to the terms of the option. I suppose you’re ready?”