“Don’t mind Case,” said Ransom; “he’s of no account.  Just come in?”

“Yes.”

“How do you like our town?”

“Very well.  There seems to be a little confusion of dry land and sea.”

“You see, Mr. Ridgeley,” said Case, “that the dry land and sea never were separated here.  The man that had the job failed, and nobody else would ever undertake it.  I think, Mr. Ridgeley,” after a pause, “I had better tell who and what we are, as we shall be together for some time.  This is Ransom—­B.  Ransom.  His temperament is intellectual—­I may say, brainy.  That B. stands for brains emphatically, being the whole of them.  He is rather a matter of fact than a conclusion of law, and were you to apply a rule of law to him, although matter of fact, he would be found to be immaterial, and might be wholly rejected as surplusage.  He’s rather scriptural, also, and takes mostly to the prophets, Jonadab, Meshac, and those revered worthies.  He’s highly moral, and goes for light reading to the elder Scriptures, drawing largely upon Tamar and Rachel and Leah, and the pure young daughters of Lot.  Ruth is too tame for him.  He was the inventor of our ’moral reform’ sidewalks, on which, as you see, no young man can walk beside a maiden.  The effect on morals is salubrious.”

“Case!  Case!” protested Ransom.

“As for law, he goes into a law book as a mite goes through a cheese, head on, and with about—­”

“Case!  Case!  Case!” broke in Ransom again, “hold up your infernal gabble.”

“I know the importance of first impressions,” said Case, with gravity, “and I want you should start favorably; and if you don’t come up to my eulogium, something will be pardoned to the partiality of friendship.”

“Yes, yes! partiality of friendship!” said Ransom, excitedly; and turning to Bart, “he is a Case, as you see; but if a man should go into Court with such a Case, he would be non-suited; he isn’t even prima facie.”

“Good!” exclaimed Kennedy.

“Ransom, you are inspired; flattery does you good.”

“Go on!” said Case; “don’t interrupt him, he’ll never get such another start.”

“He’s a poetic cuss,” continued Ransom, “and writes verses for the Painesville papers, and signs them “C.,” though I’ve never been able to see anything in them.  He’s strong on Byron, and though he’s—­he’s—­” and he stopped in excessive excitement.

“There you’re out, Ransom,” said Case, “and that is by far the ablest as well as the longest speech you ever made.  If you had let me go on and fully open out your excellencies, you might have completed the last sentence.  Now, Kennedy here—­” resumed Case.

“Spare me!” said Kennedy, laughing; “give Ridgeley a chance to find out my strong points, if you please.”

“Now, Case,” said Ransom, reflectively, “Case is not a bad fellow, considering that he is good for nothing, and a smart fellow for one who knows nothing, and you will like him.  He’s a little stiffish, and devotes himself mostly to young ladies.”