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r； you and I； Frank。 We can get a book on phonetics and you…〃
As she constructed these impossible feminine castles I got restless。 I pulled away from her； clambered up on the opposite bank and began to dress； without waiting to get dry。
〃What are you doing？〃 she said sharply。
As she could see for herself； I was putting my clothes on。
〃You haven't listened to a single word； have you？〃
I grinned； and buckled the straps on my jodhpur boots。
〃If you leave； now；〃 she shouted； 〃you needn't e back！ We're through； d'you hear？ Through！ I won't be treated this way！〃
When a woman starts to scream unreasonably； it's time to leave。 I snatched a cold fried chicken leg out of the basket； draped my coat over my arm and started down the trail。 Mary Elizabeth didn't call after me。 Too mad； I reckoned。
Mary Elizabeth was stubborn。 That was her problem。 Anytime she truly wanted to get married； all she had to do was say so。 But it had to be on my terms。 I loved her； and she was a respectable woman with a good family background。 I knew she would make me a good wife； too； once she got over this foolishness of wanting me to give up cockfighting and settle down in some dull occupation in Mansfield。 We had been over this ground too many times； and I had a new season of cockfighting to get through。 Nothing would have pleased me more than to have Mary Elizabeth as a bride at my Ocala farm； preparing meals and keeping my clothes clean。 And； until she became pregnant； what would keep her from teaching school in Ocala； if that was what she wanted to do？ As soon as she came around to seeing things my way； and quit trying to tell me what I could and couldn't do； we'd be married quick enough。 And she knew it。
I grinned to myself； and tossed the chicken bone in the general direction of an ant nest。 Mary Elizabeth had a sore point on those postcards。 I'd have to do better than that。 When I got back to Ocala； I'd write her a nice； interesting letter； a long newsy one for a change。
When I crossed through Wright's yard to the state road； I looked about apprehensively to see if he had returned； but he hadn't e back from town。 Every time Wright caught me alone； he attempted to goad me into a fight。 For Mary Elizabeth's sake； I had always refused to fight him。 It would have given me a good deal of pleasure to knock a little sense into his thick head； but I knew that as soon as we started fighting he would whip out his knife； and then I would have to kill him。
I walked down the asphalt road。 My biggest problem now was how to retrieve my shaving kit from the dresser in my room。 If I returned to the house to get it； Randall would be curious as to why I was leaving so soon。 If I wrote a note informing him I was going to take my rightful property and have him and Frances tossed out； he would attempt； with his trained lawyer's logic； to argue me out of my convictions。 As I remembered； I had never really bested him in an oral argument。 The only way I had ever won an argument with Randall was by resorting to force。 And besides； Frances would bawl and carry on like crazy。
By the time I was level with the house； I decided the hell with the shaving kit； and continued on down the road。 It would be less trouble all the way around if！ bought another razor and a toothbrush when I got back to Jacksonvifie。
I walked about four miles before I was picked up by a kid in a hot rod and taken the rest of the way into Mansfield。 When he let me out at a service station； I walked through the shady residential streets to Judge Brantley Powell's house on the upper side of town。 He only went to his office in the mornings； and I was certain I could catch him at home。 When！ rapped with the wrought…iron knocker； I only had to wait a minute before Raymond； his whitewooled Negro servant； opened the door。 Raymond peered at me blankly for a moment or so before he recognized me； and then he smiled。
〃Mr。 Frank；〃 he said cordially； 〃e in； e in！〃
It was dark in the musty hallway when he closed the door。 Raymond took my hat； led the way into the dim living room and raised the shades to let in some light。
〃The judge he takin' his nap now； Mr。 Frank；〃 he said uneasily。 〃I don't like to wake him 'less it's somethin' important。〃
I considered。 What was important to me probably wouldn't be considered important by the old judge。 I waved my right hand with an indifferent gesture； and settled myself in a leather chair to wait。
〃You goin' to wait； Mr。 Frank？〃
I nodded； picked up an old Life magazine from the table beside the chair and leafed through it。 Raymond left the room silently； and returned a few minutes later with a glass of ice cubes and a pitcher of lemonade。 A piece of vinegar pie acpanied the lemonade。 Firm； tart and clear； with a flaky； crumbly crust； it was the best piece of vinegar pie I had ever eaten。
It was almost five before the judge came downstairs。 Evidently Raymond had told him I was waiting on him because he addressed me by name when he entered the room and apologized for sleeping so late。 Judge Powell had aged considerably in the four or five years that had gone by since I had last talked to him。 He must have been close to eighty。 His head wobbled and his hands trembled as he talked。 I handed him the list of instructions I had written； and he sat down in a chair close to the window to read them。 He looked through the papers a second time； as if he were searching for something； and then removed his glasses。
〃All right； Frank；〃 he said grimly。 〃I'll handle this for you。 Your Daddy was a stubborn man； and I told him he was wrong when he changed his will。〃
I picked up my hat from the table where Raymond had placed it。
〃One more thing； Frank。 How long do you expect to be at the Jeff Davis Hotel in Jax？〃
I shrugged； mentally totaled my remaining money； and then held up four fingers。
〃You'll hear from me before then。 And when you get your money； Frank； I hope you'll settle down。 A dog has fun chasing his own tail； but he never gets anywhere while he's doing it'
I shook hands with the old man and he walked me to the front door。 〃Can you stay for dinner； son？〃
I shook my head and smiled my thanks； but when I opened the door he grasped my sleeve。
〃There're all kinds of justice； Frank；〃 he said kindly； 〃and I've seen most of them in fifty years of practice。 But poetic justice is the best kind of all。 To measure the night； a man must fill his day；〃 he finished cryptically。
I nodded knowingly； although I didn't know what he meant； and I doubt very much whether he did either。 When a man manages to live as long as Judge Powell has； he always thinks he's a sage of some kind。
I cut across town to the U。S。 Highway and ate dinner in a trucker's cafe about a mile outside the city limits。 Two hours later I was riding in the cab of a diesel truck on my way back to Jacksonville。 I had the feeling inside that I had finally burned every bridge； save one； to the past。 But I didn't have any regrets。 To survive in this world； a man has got to do what he has got to do。
9
I was tired when I reached Jacksonville； but I wasn't sleepy。 I had hoped t