ed. Daisy was a fighter. Then she, Saxon, must
fight. Besides--and she acknowledged it--readily, though in a cold, dead
way--besides, Billy was better than most husbands. Better than any other
husband she had heard of, she concluded, as she remembered many of his
earlier nicenesses and finenesses, and especially his eternal chant:
NOTHING IS TOO GOOD FOR US. THE ROBERTSES AIN'T ON THE CHEAP.

At eleven o'clock she had a caller. It was Bud Strothers, Billy's mate
on strike duty. Billy, he told her, had refused bail, refused a lawyer,
had asked to be tried by the Court, had pleaded guilty, and had received
a sentence of sixty dollars or thirty days. Also, he had refused to let
the boys pay his fine.

"He's clean looney," Strothers summed up. "Won't listen to reason. Says
he'll serve the time out. He's been tankin' up too regular, I guess.
His wheels are buzzin'. Here, he give me this note for you. Any time
you want anything send for me. The boys'll all stand by Bill's wife. You
belong to us, you know. How are you off for money?"

Proudly she disclaimed any need for money, and not until her visitor
departed did she read Billy's note:

Dear Saxon--Bud Strothers is going to give you this. Don't worry about
me. I am going to take my medicine. I deserve it--you know that. I guess
I am gone bughouse. Just the same, I am sorry for what I done. Don't
come to see me. I don't want you to. If you need money, the union will
give you some. The business agent is all right. I will be out in a
month. Now, Saxon, you know I love you, and just say to yourself that
you forgive me this time, and you won't never have to do it again.

Billy.

Bud Strothers was followed by Maggie Donahue, and Mrs. Olsen, who paid
neighborly calls of cheer and were tactful in their offers of help and
in studiously avoiding more reference than was necessary to Billy's
predicament.

In the afternoon James Harmon arrived. He limped slightly, and Saxon
divined that he was doing his best to minimize that evidence of hurt.
She tried to apologize to him, but he would not listen.

"I don't blame you, Mrs. Roberts," he said. "I know it wasn't your
doing. But your husband wasn't just himself, I guess. He was fightin'
mad on general principles, and it was just my luck to get in the way,
that was all."

"But just the same--"

The fireman shook his head.

"I know all about it. I used to punish the drink myself, and I done some