These relatives, as far as Steve was able to learn, never claimed that the transfer of property to the husband was invalid because the owner was at that time insane. Their claim was that she had not gone insane at all, and that she had, in a manner, been forced into deeding her property away, and consequently the transaction was null and void and she still owned it. A written document to this effect was posted on one of the largest trees near the house soon after the newly wedded pair moved out there, but Steve found upon investigation that this was but one of many threads forming a cobweb of prodigious size within the brains of these peculiar folk whose relative had outrun them to the asylum. Consequently he was disposed to dismiss the whole matter from his mind. Not so the crazy neighbors, for they continued to post the contested place with notices, and Nannie became habituated to plucking several of these legal _billets-doux_ from the trees every morning before breakfast. All this was great sport for Nannie, but the trouble soon took a more serious turn. The outcome of this latter was an anonymous notification to Steve that if he failed to take down an obstruction which he had put across one of the roads on his place to prevent its being used as a public thoroughfare, he would be mobbed by a crowd of men and boys. "This is a most extraordinary condition of affairs," said Steve one day in talking the matter over with Randolph Chance, "to be racing around with dogs and cutlasses when you're supposed to be cooling your brow under your vine and fig-tree." As if to add insult to injury, the Andersons, mother and son, made a passageway of the place they claimed (in the name of their daughter and sister) and persisted in using this, in spite of remonstrance and even warning. Now, for some time past Nannie had, by means best known to women, been contriving to fire Steve's usually placid temper, and the morning after her visit to Constance's an opportunity presented itself for the fanning of the flames she had kindled. On opening her door just after breakfast she saw mother Anderson and her son William land at the little private pier Steve had built, and then walk with a bold and rugged step up toward the house _en route_ to the station, some half mile to the rear. Now was Nannie's chance! Such fun to see Steve fight! "Steve!" she screamed, running into the house, "here are those dreadful people again! They frighten me to death! I shall never dare to stay here alone if you don't make an end of their coming!" Frightened! Ah, Nannie! with that bright color and those dancing eyes! Steve ran out, his mind aflame at last as he thought of poor little Nannie's terrors and the offensive note he had received. "See here, Anderson," he began, "you have been asked to keep away from this place. It has----" But just here William, who had no regard for social amenities, cut his remarks short by a resounding slap in the face.