Uncle Elnathan Shaw one day Started down cellar, usual way, Plannin’ in usual way to draw Cider enough for ’foresaid Shaw; But he happened to slip on the upper stair, Whirled round and grabbed at the empty air, And clear to the foot of them stairs, ker-smack, He bumped on the bulge of his humped old back; And his wife yelled down, as mad’s a bug: “Ding-rat your pelt, did you break my jug?’ Micajah Dunham was pulling “six-weeks” beans in his lower lot the next afternoon when he saw two men coming across the field toward him. With hand at his forehead he soon recognised them--Squire Look’s sturdy figure, and behind him the equally well-known waddling bulk of “Sawed-off” Purday, Palermo’s local deputy sheriff. “Hen’, just hand ’Caje that paper,” directed the Squire after the greetings. “Then, if you’ve a mind to, go back to the team and wait while I have a word here.” The farmer’s face paled as he took the paper, first dragging his earth-soiled hands across his trousers’ legs. He realised it must be a legal document, and it frightened him. “It isn’t often that the lawyer himself comes along with his paper,” commented Squire Phin, “but I felt that this might need a little elucidation--and something else, perhaps.” The farmer blinked, holding the writing aslant. The sheet crackled and fluttered in his trembling hands. “I ain’t got my specs, Squire,” he said with agitation. “But I don’t owe no money nor nothin’ to be sued for. What is it?” “Esther has sued you for a bill of divorce,” the lawyer explained bluntly. “Charge, cruel and abusive treatment. From what she tells me you are knowing to the whys and wherefores.” Dunham stumbled to a tussock and sat down. “Di-vose! Di-vose!” he stammered. “Esther sue me? I don’t believe it. It is some kind of a lawyer trick. Lawyers is alwa’s stirrin’ trouble, but I didn’t reckon you was one of that kind, Squire Look.” “Look here, ’Caje,” the lawyer’s voice was bluff and businesslike; “it’s better for me to handle this matter than to have it left to that young whippet over to the Corner, who’d have your heart out if he could pile up costs that way. Now, what do you mean by volunteering in the cause of education?” he inquired, jerking his thumb at the school house, whose roof was visible above the rise of ground. Micajah lowered his eyes under the keen look, visibly discomposed. “Still she’s a-dingin’ away at that, hey?” he growled. “If you was a school agent in a deestrick, Squire, and there was a poor, lonesome little wusser’n-orphan critter of a schoolmarm teachin’ the school, wouldn’t you sort of show her a few attentions so’s to keep her in the deestrick, seein’ that the children all love her? I’ve tried to explain to Esther, Squire, that it’s all in the way of school gov’ummunt, as you might say, but you know what a woman is!”