fferent her life would
have been if her husband had only taken an interest in her affairs. She
did not think of any one else as her husband, but only Miner in a
different mood.

Morris went back to work. As the work neared the end, his determination
to punish the scoundrel husband grew. His inclination to charge him with
burning the mill grew stronger. He wondered if it wouldn't serve as a
club. "Now, sir," he said, meeting Miner as he came out of the barn that
night, "I'm done on the barn, but I'm not done on you. I'm goin' to
whale you till you won't know yourself. I ought 'o 'a done it that first
day at dinner." He advanced upon Miner, who backed away, scared at
something he saw in the young man's eyes and something he heard in his
inflexible tone of voice.

He thrust out his palm in a wild gesture. "Keep away from me! I'll split
your heart if you touch me!"

Morris advanced another step, his eyes looking straight into Miner's
with the level look of a tiger's. "No, y' won't! You're too much of an
infernal, sneaky little _whelp_!"

At the word whelp, he cuffed him with his hammerlike fist, and Miner
went down in a heap. He was so abject that the young man could only
strike him with his open hand.

He took him by the shirt collar with his left hand and began to cuff him
leisurely and terribly with his right. His blows punctuated his
sentences. "You're a little [whack] villain. I'll thrash you till you
won't see out of your blasted eyes for a month! I can't stand a man
[here he jounced him up and down with his left hand, apparently with
infinite satisfaction] who bullies his wife and children as you do [here
he cuffed him again], and I'll make it my business to even things
up----"

The prostrate man began to scream for help. He was livid with fear. He
fancied murder in the blaze of his assailant's eye.

"Help! help! Minnie!"

"Call her by her first name now, will yeh? will yeh? Call her out to
help yeh! Do you think she will? I want to tell you, besides, I know
something about that mill burning. It's just like your contemptible
mustard-seed of a soul to burn that mill!"

Mrs. Miner came flying out. She could not recognize her husband in the
bleeding, dirty, abject thing squirming under the young man's knee.

"Why, Mr. Morris, who--why--why, it's Tom!" she gasped, her eyes
distended with surprise and horror.

Morris looked up at her coolly. "Yes, it's Tom." He then gave his
attention to the writhing figure