The Mayor opened his jack-knife and handed it to Betty. He and Royce Pederstone went into the yard together. Phil stood watching by the barn door.
Shortly afterwards, Sol came out, his big hand clasped over Betty’s little one. He looked away from the men in the yard, shame-facedly, but Betty’s eyes shone defiance and her head kept up, and the two lovers walked on to the highway and along in the direction of their own home.
“Well I’ll be darned!” exclaimed Pederstone. “It takes a woman every time to know how to handle a man.”
Brenchfield scoffingly curled his lip.
“Coming my way, Graham?”
“Not yet awhile,” said the Mayor; “I want to see Ralston here about a little matter that’s been on my mind for a while.”
Phil was already back working on the furnace bellows and stirring his irons in the red-hot coals.
Mayor Brenchfield came over to him, his fat but handsome face leering a little under his bushy eyebrows.
“So, Philly,––you’re still earning your daily bread by the sweat of your blooming brow!”