"I do not doubt it. The reputation I have won at the hands of my own household is part of the general injustice of society—as it exists. Nothing can convince my labor-loving spouse that I am preparing for her and her children a future of—Stay, lad: are you, also, a member of this establishment?"
"I'm goin' down suller after lumber. Come along an' help. If we hustle right smart we can get a pen done 'fore dark, let alone gettin' them cattle into a shed. Strange critters need shuttin' up, a spell, else they'll make tracks for home—wherever 'tis," answered Jim, leading the way toward the house and the door he judged must lead to the cellar. His own voice sounded very strong and masterful by contrast with the high, thin falsetto of the "Nanarchist," and Mrs. Chester smiled, while Dorothy cried out:
"Alfy's father may be a giant, but my Jim is a man!"
They were no longer afraid of "Pa Babcock." His outward appearance wholly belied his nature, and they instinctively recognized that here was an easy-going, lazy fellow, who might impress his own household with a sense of his importance but could not overawe outsiders. They sat down on the barn doorsill to wait and watch events, and presently there returned Pa Babcock carrying an enormous quantity of the heavy, cobwebby planking that had formed the framework of the old churn. Behind him was Jim, rolling the treadmill part of the affair and as profoundly engrossed by the task in hand as by all he undertook. He had evidently assumed the direction of matters and his big assistant was amusingly obedient.
Mr. Chester, also, came out to the spot and was made comfortable with an old horse-blanket for cushion of a low chopping-block near. Dorothy found the blanket in the barn and also triumphantly asserted that there was a lot of "real nice hay" in one part of it. But Jim scoffed at this statement, declaring that hay kept as long as Skyrie had been closed wouldn't be "wuth shucks."
"James, James! Don't become a pessimist!" warned father John, yet smiling, too.
"Say it again, please, sir, an' I'll look it out in that little dictionary Mis' Calvert she's put in my room. Hurry up, man! Wish to goodness I had some decent tools! Nothin' but a rusty ax to work with—an' look yonder at that sky!"
All looked and mother Martha grew frightened. She was timid during any thunder shower and this was worse than a shower which threatened—a tornado seemed imminent. To retreat indoors and help John to get there was her first impulse, but Pa Babcock held up a protesting hand and she hesitated, curiously observing his movements. Moistening his fingers he let the rising wind blow over them, then calmly resumed his task of nailing a board to a post in the cattle-shed still left standing beside the barn.
"It will not come on to rain till midnight. Then look out for a deluge. You are perfectly and entirely safe here, ma'am, until our undertaking is accomplished and it is always well to have the eye of the master—I would say, mistress—upon——"
"Hand over that scantlin', old step-an'-fetch-it!" ordered Jim, with scant reverence and—the scantling was handed. Furthermore, Pa was set to searching the barn for a possible crowbar, pick-ax, or, "Any plaguy thing a feller can bore a post-hole with."