Still she did not turn; but, covering a yawn, replied: "Rather sit here and play."
Her father swelled a moment in rage, but he subsided again without audible protest. Only he sent a scowl at Terry as though daring him to take notice of this insolence. As for the other men, they had scattered to various parts of the room and remained there, idly, while the boss and the new hand drank the scalding coffee of Johnny. All this time Pollard remained deep in thought. His meditations exploded as he banged the empty cup back on the table.
"Kate, this stuff has got to stop. Understand?"
The soft jingling of the piano continued without pause.
"Stop that damned noise!"
The music paused. Terry felt the long striking muscles leap into hard ridges along his arms, but glancing at the other four, he found that they were taking the violence of Pollard quite as a matter of course. One was whittling, another rolled a cigarette, and all of them, if they took any visible notice of the argument, did so with the calmest of side glances.
"Turn around!" roared Pollard.
His daughter turned slowly and faced him. Not white-faced with fear, but to the unutterable astonishment of Terry she was quietly looking her father up and down. Pollard sprang to his feet and struck the table so that it quivered through all its massive length.
"Are you trying to shame me before a stranger?" thundered the big man.
"Is that the scene?"
She flicked Terry Hollis with a glance. "I think he'll understand and make allowances."