away from them. They're so
unattractive to look at and to associate with--not like those shrewd,
respectful, interesting peasants one finds on the other side. They're
better in the East. They know their place in a way. But out here
they're insufferable."

And she spent the morning quarrelling with her maid and the other
servants, issuing orders right and left, working herself into a
horrible mood dominated by a headache that was anything but a pretense.
As she wandered about the house and gardens, she trailed a beautiful
negligee with that carelessness which in a woman of clean and orderly
habits invariably indicates the possession of many clothes and of a
maid who can be counted on to freshen things up before they shall be
used again. Her father came home to lunch in high good humor.

"I'll not go down town again for a few days," said he. "I reckon I'd
best keep out of the way. That scoundrelly Victor Dorn has done so
much lying and inciting these last four or five years that it ain't
safe for a man like me to go about when there's trouble with the hands."

"Isn't it outrageous!" exclaimed Jane. "He ought to be stopped."

Hastings chuckled and nodded. "And he will be," said he. "Wait till
this strike's over."

"When will that be?" asked Jane.

"Mighty soon," replied her father. "I was ready for 'em this
time--good and ready. I've sent word to the governor that I want the
militia down here tomorrow----"

"Has there been a riot?" cried Jane anxiously.

"Not yet," said Hastings. He was laughing to himself. "But there will
be to-night. Then the governor'll send the troops in to-morrow
afternoon."

"But maybe the men'll be quiet, and then----" began Jane, sick inside
and trembling.

"When I say a thing'll happen, it'll happen," interrupted her father.
"We've made up our minds it's time to give these fellows a lesson.
It's got to be done. A milder lesson'll serve now, where later on it'd
have to be hard. I tell you these things because I want you to
remember 'em. They'll come in handy--when you'll have to look after
your own property."

She knew how her father hated the thought of his own death; this was
the nearest he had ever come to speaking of it. "Of course, there's
your brother William," he went on. "William's a good boy--and a mighty
good business man--though he does take risks I'd never 'a took--not
even when I was young and had nothing to lose. Yes--and Billy's
honest. BUT"--the