The clinking of silver, questions, answers, and expostulations went on. In the midst of it there was the sudden shrill wail of an angry child.
“I wants some of my money, Paw—I wants to buy a ginger man.”
Then came a cruel slap which was heard all over the room, and the boy of ten, a wild-eyed and unkempt thing, staggered and grasped his face where the blow fell.
“Take that, you sassy meddling up-start—you belong to me till you are twenty-one years old. What 'ud you do with a ginger man 'cept to eat it?” He cuffed the boy through the door and sent him flying home.
It was Joe Sykes, the wages of whose children kept him in active drunkenness and chronic inertia. He was the champion loafer of the town.
In a short time he had drawn a pocketful of silver, and going out soon overtook Jud Carpenter.
“I tell you, Jud, we mus' hold these kids down—we heads of the family. I've mighty nigh broke myself down this week a controllin' mine. Goin' down to take a drink or two? Same to you.”