Norman caught his big horny hand and pressed it.
"Not on your life, Tom. You've made a hit. The people like your hard horse-sense. You will make a good judge. Besides, I need you. You're a man I can depend on every day in the year."
"I'll stick ef you need me, boy—but I hain't fitten, I tell ye."
"I'll vouch for your fitness—sit down!"
The last command Norman thundered into Tom's ears in imitation of his order to the poet, and the old miner, with a grin, dropped into his seat.
As Norman was about to declare the meeting adjourned, the steward ascended the platform and whispered a message.
The young leader turned to the crowd and lifted his hand for silence.
"Comrades, a prosaic but very important announcement I have to make. I have just been informed that there is no milk for supper. The cows have been neglected. They must be milked. I call for a dozen volunteer milkmaids until this adjustment can be made. Come, now!—and a dozen young men to assist them. Let's make this a test of your loyalty to the cause. All labour is equally honourable. Labour is the service of your fellow man. Who will be the first heroine to fill this breach in the walls of our defence?"
Barbara sprang forward, with uplifted head, laughing.
"I will!"