“Wal, borrow on it,” suggested Luce wrathfully. “Judge, I can’t put my pears on to the cars when they’re greener’n cucumbers. Ask Homer if there’s a man in this hull Valley that’s shippin’ pears.” Mrs. Luce smiled. “Jim’d lie and Homer’d swear to it,” she observed with a knowing nod and a wink. The Judge gave her a look of grave reproval. “Nobody’s ever caught Homer Scott swearin’ to a lie,” he contradicted coldly. The round face of Luce brightened, and he hastened to take advantage of the Judge’s evident displeasure. “That’s the kind of wild talk she’s allus gittin’ off,” he declared. “She don’t have nothin’ to do but talk. Here I am, a hard-workin’ man, an’ have to support her. She don’t even come down to the ranch an’ help pack fruit.” Mrs. Luce gave a sniff. “I don’t associate with the prune-jammer crowd,” she said. “Whenever I want a little spending money I wash dishes at the Occidental.” “The law,” informed the Judge, in his most official tone, but with a twinkle in the grey eyes, “--the law don’t name just what kind of work a divorced lady has to do.” Luce rose, kicking his chair out of the way, and pointed a stubby finger at a column of calf-bound books. “None of them laws,” he said, “read to me as if they was made for men. No; they was made to please the women--I guess I know! Wal, let her have ’em on me if she wants to. I’ll go to jail. I don’t care.” “She’d be makin’ the biggest mistake in the world if she put you in jail,” said the Judge earnestly. “No man can raise money when he’s killin’ time. An’ you’d bother me a lot if you was in yonder. The prisoners allus interfere with my studyin’. Seems like they have to be amused when they been in a few days, an’ it all comes on me. The constable thinks he’s did his duty when he gits ’em locked up. So off he goes, lookin’ after his saloon, or his cattle, or to set salmon-lines.” Then he turned to Mrs. Luce with an admonishing shake of the finger. “After this,” he counseled, “fix it so’s the pear crop an’ the piano-man come t’gether.” At that, feeling herself twice rebuked, Mrs. Luce arose with some spirit. “What’s that got to do with Jim’s scaring up my back alimony?” she inquired defiantly. Then, stiff with resentment, she walked out. When she was gone the Judge slid down in his chair until he was again seated upon the small of his back, and from across the top of his desk he fixed solemn eyes upon Luce. “Jim,” he said, “you cut out that little bunch at the Occidental. Them fellers have forgot more about poker than you ever learnt.” The other’s face took on a deeper hue. He squirmed under the searching glance. “They don’t git nothin’ away from me,” he declared. “An’ cards,” went on the Judge evenly, “is a blamed poor excuse when a man’s bein’ sued.” “Oh, you’re dead right there, Gid.” “Glad you see it. You don’t want t’ be responsible if any man drops his money--especially if it’s a young man.”