“What is it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know—I must see Luke!” She turned and ran toward the office, her employer at her heels, his mother and the two girls following after.
“Why the mob scene?” he asked, looking back at them, but they pressed forward, and presently they were all in the dingy room where Luke Manders held despotic sway.
The superintendent was at his desk, and rose at sight of them.
“Luke,” said his assistant, “I think we had better dismiss the hands! I have a note here—some one gave it to Pap Tolliver—” She smoothed out the crumpled, soiled half sheet of cheap notepaper and read the message aloud——
“You keep away from mill at nights.”
“Well, what of it?” Manders demanded truculently. “Some sore-headed Slavonian—” He dismissed it with a gesture.
“But, Luke, you know you posted a notice that we wouldn’t work night shifts this week, and——”
“What of it?” The mountaineer was trying hard to be civil, Mrs. Parker considered, but without marked success.
“Luke, I’m frightened! You know there have been threats. And this week, when—as they supposed—the hands would not be here at night—would be the time they would choose for—for wrecking the mill! Luke, please send them all home!”