He belonged to a type of rural lawyer that is now passing.
"I think we've heard of you, too," smiled Prescott innocently.
"Have you ?" asked the lawyer, looking somewhat astonished.
"Yes," Dick went on.

"I think it must have been your letter that Mr.Reuben Hinman showed us one day.

It was in regard to a bill he had given you to collect.

Mr.Hinman is in the hospital and must need quite a bit of money just at present so I beg to express the hope that you have been able to collect the other half of the debt---the half that belongs to him." Lawyer Stark reddened a good deal, despite his sallow skin.
"Why, what about that other half?
What's the story ?" questioned Mr.Hartshorn, his eyes, twinkling as though he scented something amusing.
"Oh---er---just a matter of business between a client and myself," the lawyer explained, in some confusion.
"And poor old Hinman was the client, eh ?" asked the farmer.
"We don't know very much about the matter," Dave Darrin broke in, a trifle maliciously, for he fell that it might be a good thing to show up this lawyer's tricky work.

"Mr.Hinman gave Mr.Stark a bill of twenty dollars to collect, and-----" "It was---er---all a matter of business between a client and myself, and therefore of a confidential nature," Lawyer Stark broke in, reddening still more.
But Dave was in no mood, just then, to be headed off so easily, so he went on: "Mr.Hinman showed us the letter, and asked us what we thought of it, so that rather broke the confidential nature of the matter.
You see," turning to Mr.Hartshorn, "the bill was for twenty dollars, and it seems that.