Levi Markham leaned back, took off his glasses and fixed Sandy with his keen glance. For a few moments he could not speak; he had been carried far and beyond his normal depth. When he got command of himself, he said slowly:
"Son, it looks to me as if we would need all we can make up North to stamp out some of the evils of the South, but, God willing, we're going to make a stab at it! See here, who is the representative for this district?"
Sandy gave the name of a man many miles away.
"Well, I guess he can be brought to learn the language of Lost Hollow, son, if some one shows him his duty. Some good laws, too, that would put a quietus on this Smith Crothers' ambitions ought to be looked after. He shouldn't be the say-all up here. No man is good enough or safe enough to take the bit in his own teeth—not even you, Sandy Morley!"
"Law, well carried out, is the best way, sir."
"Exactly! And now for the rest of the building, boy. What are these little cubby holes?"
"Bedrooms, sir. This is only an idea of my own. It's rather extravagant and it's subject to your decision, of course. I'd like to have each child have his own room, sir. A boy or girl grows so in a special little corner that is quite his own. I have a design of a small chest of drawers that I'd like to show you later. It does not take up much space and it combines washstand, bureau, table and—a place for the boy or girl's things."
"Things?" Levi was again bending over the blue print.
"Yes, sir. Things dear to each child's heart. Stones, sticks, anything that cannot be—explained." Sandy gave a low laugh. He was harking back to the old shed beside his father's cabin and the gay prints tacked to the worm-eaten boards.
"The separate rooms can stand, son, and those little jimcracks of drawers are favourably passed on, too. And these?" Levi's thick forefinger stopped at the elevation of the first floor.