“Suit! what suit? are you going to have a suit over it?”

The bar-tender brought a bottle, a pitcher of water, two glasses, and a bowl of sugar.

“Yes,” replied the boy, sadly, “I s’pose we’ve got to.  Gran’pa Simon, he’s been ’pointed my garden.  He ain’t so bad a man as he used to be, Gran’pa Simon ain’t.  He’s been sick a good deal lately, I guess.”

Rhyming Joe paid no attention to these last remarks, but he seemed to be deeply interested in the law-suit mentioned.  He took time to pour some of the contents of the bottle into each glass, then he filled the glasses up with water and stirred a goodly quantity of sugar into the one he pushed toward Ralph.

“What is it?” asked the boy.  “Uncle Billy an’ me’s temperance; we don’t drink nothin’ much but water.”

“Oh!” responded Joe, “this is purely a temperance drink; it’s made up from wheat, just the same as you get in your white bread.  They have to drink it here in Wilkesbarre, the water is so bad.

  “When man and water both are ill,
  A little wheat-juice fills the bill.

“Try some, you’ll find it good.”

Ralph was thirsty, and he sipped a little of the mixture; but he did not like it very well, and he drank no more of it.

“Who is going to carry on the suit for you?” continued Rhyming Joe; “have you got a lawyer?”

“Oh, yes!  Lawyer Sharpman; he’s very smart, too.  He’s goin’ to manage it.”

“And when will the trial come off?  Perhaps I may be of some assistance to you and to my quondam friend, your sometime grandfather.  I would drop all bitterness of feeling, all vain enmity, if I might do the revered patriarch a favor.

  “My motto has been, and my motto is yet,
  That it frequently pays to forgive and forget.”

“Oh!  I don’t know,” Ralph replied; “it’ll be two or three months yet, anyway, I guess.”

Rhyming Joe gazed thoughtfully at the stove.

Bummerton came and began to take away the dishes.

“What’s your bill, landlord?” inquired Joe.

“D’ye want the bill for both of ye?”

“Certainly.  My young friend here, if I remember rightly, invited me to dine with him.  I am his guest, and he foots the bills.  See?”

Ralph did not remember to have asked Rhyming Joe to dine with him, but he did not want to appear mean, so he said:—­

“Yes, I’ll foot the bill; how much is it?” taking out his little leather wallet as he spoke.

“It’ll be three dollars,” said Bummerton; “a dollar an’ a quarter apiece for the dinner, an’ a quarter apiece for the drinks.”

Ralph looked up in amazement.  He had never before heard of a dinner being worth so much money.

“Oh! it’s all right,” said Joe.  “This is rather a high-priced hotel; but they get up everything in first-class style, do you see?

  “If in style you drink and eat,
  Lofty bills you’ll have to meet.”