But though Tim was ready to work, he was far from being in a friendly state of mind. His flag wig-wagged short three-and four-word messages that Don could carry in his head without resorting to pad and pencil. At four o'clock the work was over.
"Want to go to the woods tomorrow?" Tim asked gruffly.
Don nodded eagerly.
"All right; I'll be around at one o'clock." He turned on his heel and was gone.
Don went indoors dejectedly. Barbara was mixing biscuit batter in the kitchen. He stood in the doorway and blurted out the doings of the past few days.
"Nothing there to worry about," Barbara said brightly. "Be honest, now.
How did Tim act a couple of months ago whenever anything displeased him?"
"He kicked things around."
"And now he comes here and works."
"Gosh!" said Don in a relieved voice, "that's so. I didn't think of it like that." He went back to his screens for another hour of work before supper, and as he measured and cut molding, his whistle was cheery and good to hear.
Even Tim's crabbiness on the next day's trip did not dampen his spirits. There was a thicket a mile from town. They selected this spot for their work.