The lady turned sternly on the last speaker.
"Yes," she said; "that's the kind of idea you would hold. It's getting played out now."
George was conscious of slight amusement. The affair had its humorous side, and, though he was ready to interfere if the women were roughly handled, he did not think they ran any serious risk. Beamish looked capable of dealing with the situation.
"You don't require to butt in, boys," he said. "Leave me to talk to these ladies; I guess their intentions are good." He bowed to Mrs. Nelson. "You can go on, ma'am."
"I've only this to say—you must close your bar right now!"
"Suppose I'm not willing? It will mean a big loss to me."
"That," answered Mrs. Nelson firmly, "doesn't count; the bigger the loss, the better. You will stop the sale of drink until to-morrow, or take the consequences."
Another woman, who looked careworn and haggard, and was shabbily dressed, stood forward.
"We and the children have borne enough!" she broke out. "We have to save the cord-wood in the bitter cold; we have to send the kiddies out in old, thin clothes, while the money that would make home worth living in goes into your register. Where are the boys—our husbands and sons—who once held steady jobs and did good work?" She raised an accusing hand, with despair in her pinched face. "Oh! I needn't tell you—they're rebranding farmers' calves or hiding from the police! Don't you know of one who walked to his death through the big trestle, dazed with liquor? For these things the men who tempted them will have to answer!"
"True, but not quite to the point," Mrs. Nelson interposed. "We have found remonstrance useless; the time for words has passed. This fellow has had his warning; we're waiting for him to comply with it."