"Um—I see. Are there any more sissies in town?"
"Nope. Not now. There uster be one onest, about a year ago, but he's all right now. We licked him till he got all right."
"And do you intend to lick André François until he gets all right?"
The scion of the McCarthys looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but seeing in his face rather a desire for honest information than the guile of a parent, he answered:
"Nope. Nobody dast to touch him."
"Why?" asked Mr. Biron with a gleam of hope, "would he fight?"
"Who? Him? Him fight? I guess not. It's cause you're his dad. My dad, he said that if I dast to lay a finger on Andray Franswa, he'd skin me alive—an' the rest o' the kids, their dads told 'em the same thing."
"I see," said the manager of the White Star, and he saw also that a certain disadvantage went with being the employer of nearly every man in the town.
He took a thoughtful turn around the office, for his conscience gave him a twinge at the critical moment, then stopped abruptly in front of James Joseph and took from his pocket a bright, new silver dollar.