Thus rudely interrupted, the "Nanarchist" calmly surveyed his companion in labor, then squeaked out:
"There is no occasion for such remarkable activity, young man, but——"
"Hurry up! 'Twon't be no midnight 'fore that 'gust' strikes us!" ordered Jim Barlow.
Anger is a wonderful incentive to action—sometimes. At last Pa Babcock was angry—as much so as it was in his nature ever to be. The result was that he fell to work with a vigor and skill that almost distanced Jim's own; to the great advantage of the Chesters and their live stock.
By the time darkness had come a pig-pen had been constructed in one end of the cattle-shed; a milking-stool had been nailed into shape and Hannah milked—with a remarkable shrinkage in the amount Oliver Sands had accredited to her: she and "Daisy-Jewel" put under cover for the night: and the rickety barn-doors nailed here and there as a precaution against the coming "gust."
This seemed long delayed; yet Jim was wise enough to button his blouse tightly across his heated chest and to take his prompt departure the moment his self-imposed tasks were finished; Mrs. Chester calling after him:
"Don't forget to thank Mrs. Calvert for her kindness about the mail and tell her, please, that this letter held the change due us after the printing of that advertisement And thank you, James Barlow, for all your helpfulness in everything."
The lad went onward, with a comfortable sense of having been extremely useful and with all his slight jealousy allayed; reflecting, also:
"There ain't one that lot got any more sense about farmin' than a spring chicken! Not so much, either; 'cause a chicken will stir round an' scratch a livin' out the ground, sooner 'n starve. Dorothy, she—Well, she's got some ideas, kind of dull ones, but might answer once she gets 'em sharpened by tryin' an' failin'; but—Pshaw! I wish to goodness she was a boy an' not a girl! Then there'd be some show. As 'tis—shucks!"
The day may come, Master James, when you'll be very glad that your wish could not be gratified! Meanwhile, as you plod along beneath the trees, sighing and moaning overhead—in seeming terror of the coming storm—the family at Skyrie have re-entered the cottage: and with the ease of one who belongs, Pa Babcock has entered with them.