Queer, too--a man that's only lived in Plattville a few years to be settling such an old score for us.

They'll do their best to get him, and if they do there'll be trouble of an illegal nature.

I think our people would go over there again, but I expect there wouldn't be any ambush this time; and the pioneers, might rest easier in--" He broke off suddenly and nodded to a little old man in a buckboard, who was turning off from the road into a farm lane which led up to a trim cottage with a honeysuckle vine by the door.

"That's Mrs.Wimby's husband," said the judge in an undertone.
Miss Sherwood observed that "Mrs.Wimby's husband" was remarkable for the exceeding plaintiveness of his expression.

He was a weazened, blank, pale-eyed little man, with a thin, white mist of neck whisker; his coat was so large for him that the sleeves were rolled up from his wrists with several turns, and, as he climbed painfully to the ground to open the gate of the lane, it needed no perspicuous eye to perceive that his trousers had been made for a much larger man, for, as his uncertain foot left the step of his vehicle, one baggy leg of the garment fell down over his foot, completely concealing his boot and hanging some inches beneath.