Ransie Bilbro drew a small tobacco-bag from his trousers pocket.  Out of this he shook upon the table a five-dollar note.  “Sold a b’arskin and two foxes fur that,” he remarked.  “It’s all the money we got.”

“The regular price of a divo’ce in this co’t,” said the Justice, “air five dollars.”  He stuffed the bill into the pocket of his homespun vest with a deceptive air of indifference.  With much bodily toil and mental travail he wrote the decree upon half a sheet of foolscap, and then copied it upon the other.  Ransie Bilbro and his wife listened to his reading of the document that was to give them freedom: 

“Know all men by these presents that Ransie Bilbro and his wife, Ariela Bilbro, this day personally appeared before me and promises that hereinafter they will neither love, honour, nor obey each other, neither for better nor worse, being of sound mind and body, and accept summons for divorce according to the peace and dignity of the State.  Herein fail not, so help you God.  Benaja Widdup, justice of the peace in and for the county of Piedmont, State of Tennessee.”

The Justice was about to hand one of the documents to Ransie.  The voice of Ariela delayed the transfer.  Both men looked at her.  Their dull masculinity was confronted by something sudden and unexpected in the woman.

“Judge, don’t you give him that air paper yit.  ’Tain’t all settled, nohow.  I got to have my rights first.  I got to have my ali-money.  ’Tain’t no kind of a way to do fur a man to divo’ce his wife ’thout her havin’ a cent fur to do with.  I’m a-layin’ off to be a-goin’ up to brother Ed’s up on Hogback Mount’in.  I’m bound fur to hev a pa’r of shoes and some snuff and things besides.  Ef Rance kin affo’d a divo’ce, let him pay me ali-money.”

Ransie Bilbro was stricken to dumb perplexity.  There had been no previous hint of alimony.  Women were always bringing up startling and unlooked-for issues.

Justice Benaja Widdup felt that the point demanded judicial decision.  The authorities were also silent on the subject of alimony.  But the woman’s feet were bare.  The trail to Hogback Mountain was steep and flinty.

“Ariela Bilbro,” he asked, in official tones, “how much did you ’low would be good and sufficient ali-money in the case befo’ the co’t.”

“I ’lowed,” she answered, “fur the shoes and all, to say five dollars.  That ain’t much fur ali-money, but I reckon that’ll git me to up brother Ed’s.”

“The amount,” said the Justice, “air not onreasonable.  Ransie Bilbro, you air ordered by the co’t to pay the plaintiff the sum of five dollars befo’ the decree of divo’ce air issued.”

“I hain’t no mo’ money,” breathed Ransie, heavily.  “I done paid you all I had.”

“Otherwise,” said the Justice, looking severely over his spectacles, “you air in contempt of co’t.”

“I reckon if you gimme till to-morrow,” pleaded the husband, “I mout be able to rake or scrape it up somewhars.  I never looked for to be a-payin’ no ali-money.”