Mrs. Wayne understood him in a flash. She sprang to her feet.

"Marty Burke," she cried, "you don't mean to say you've got those two
children married!"

"Not fifteen minutes ago, and I standing up with the groom." He smiled a
smile of the wildest, most piercing sweetness--a smile so free and
intense that it seemed impossible to connect it with anything but the
consciousness of a pure heart. Mrs. Farron had never seen such a smile.
"I thought I'd just drop around and give you the news," he said, and now
for the first time took off his hat, displaying his crisp, black hair and
round, pugnacious head. "Good morning, ladies." He bowed, and for an
instant his glance rested on Mrs. Farron with an admiration too frank to
be exactly offensive. He put his hat on his head, turned away, and made
his exit, whistling.

He left behind him one person at least who had thoroughly enjoyed his
triumph. To do her justice, however, Mrs. Farron was ashamed of her
sympathy, and she said gently to Mrs. Wayne:

"You think this marriage a very bad thing."

Mrs. Wayne pushed all her hair away from her temples.

"Oh, yes," she said, "it's a bad thing for the girl; but the worst is
having Marty Burke put anything over. The district is absolutely under
his thumb. I do wish, Mrs. Farron, you would get your husband to put the
fear of God into him."

"My husband?"

"Yes; he works for your husband. He has charge of the loading and
unloading of the trucks. He's proud of his job, and it gives him power
over the laborers. He wouldn't want to lose his place. If your husband
would send for him and say--" Mrs. Wayne hastily outlined the things Mr.
Farron might say.

"He works for Vincent," Adelaide repeated. It seemed to her an absolutely
stupendous coincidence, and her imagination pictured the clash between
them--the effort of Vincent to put the fear of God into this man. Would
he be able to? Which one would win? Never before had she doubted the
superior power of her husband; now she did. "I think it would be hard to
put the fear of God into that young man," she said aloud.

"I do wish Mr. Farron would try."

"Try," thought Adelaide, "and fail?" Could she stand that? Was her
whole relation to Vincent about to be put to the test? What weapons had
he against Marty Burke? And if he had none, how stripped he would
appear in her eyes!

"Won't you ask him, Mrs. Farron?"

Adelaide recoiled. She did not want to be the one to throw her glove
among