ravely asserted it was "a low-down, measly trick"
which the Sizers ought to resent. They all began drinking again, to
calm their feelings, and after the midday dinner Bill Sizer grabbed a
huge cowhide whip and started to Millville to "lick the editor to a
standstill." A wagonload of his guests accompanied him, and Molly
pleaded with her brother not to hurt Mrs. Weldon.

"I won't; but I'll cowhide that fresh husband of hers," declared Bill.
"He's the editor--the paper says so--and he's the one I'm after!"

CHAPTER XIII

BOB WEST INTERFERES

It was unfortunate that at that time Thursday Smith had gone up the
electric line toward Royal, to inspect it. In the office were Patsy,
Hetty Hewitt--who was making a drawing--Arthur Weldon, engaged upon his
books, and finally, seated in an easy-chair from which he silently
watched them work, old Bob West, the hardware man. Louise and Beth had
driven over to the Junction to write up an accident, one of the trainmen
having caught his hand in a coupling, between two freight cars.

Bob West often dropped into the office, which was next door to his own
place of business, but he was a silent man and had little to say on
these visits. In his early days he had wandered pretty much over the
whole world, and he could relate some interesting personal adventures
if he chose. In this retired village West was the one inhabitant
distinguished above his fellows for his knowledge of the world. In his
rooms over the store, where few were ever invited, he had a fine library
of unusual books and a rare collection of curios gathered from foreign
lands. It was natural that such a man would be interested in so unique
an experiment as the _Millville Tribune_, and he watched its conduct
with curiosity but a constantly growing respect for the three girl
journalists. No one ever minded when he came into the office, nodded and
sat down. Sometimes he would converse with much freedom; at other times
the old gentleman remained an hour without offering a remark, and went
away with a brief parting nod.

It was West who first saw, through the window, the wagonload of men from
the Sizer farm come dashing up the street at a gallop. Instinctively,
perhaps, he knew trouble was brewing, but he never altered his
expression or his attitude, even when the wagon stopped at the printing
office and the passengers leaped out.

In marched Bill Sizer at the head of his following, cowhide in hand.
Patsy, her face f