her eyes beaming. Patsy was perched on her shoulder, his little
crutch fast in one hand, the other tightly wound about her neck. "Let
go, darlint; ye're a-chokin' the wind out of me."

"Oh, it's ye a-waitin', Mr. Babcock--me man Carl thought ye'd gone.
Mr. Crane I met outside told me you'd been here. Jennie'll get the
tally-sheet of the last load for ye. I've been to the fort since
daylight, and pretty much all night, to tell ye God's truth. Oh,
Gran'pop, but I smashed 'em!" she exclaimed as she gently removed
Patsy's arm and laid him in the old man's lap. She had picked the little
cripple up at the garden gate, where he always waited for her. "That's
the last job that sneakin' Duffy and Dan McGaw'll ever put up on me. Oh,
but ye should'a' minded the face on him, Gran'pop!"--untying her hood
and breaking into a laugh so contagious in its mirth that even Babcock
joined in without knowing what it was all about.

As she spoke, Tom stood facing her father, hood and ulster off, the
light of the windows silhouetting the splendid lines of her well-rounded
figure, with its deep chest, firm bust, broad back, and full throat, her
arms swinging loose and free.

"Ye see," she said, turning to Babcock, "that man Duffy tried to do
me,--he's the sergeant at the fort--and Dan McGaw--ye know him--he's the
divil that wanted to work for ye. Ye know I always had the hauling of
the coal at the fort, an' I want to hold on to it, for it comes every
year. I've been a-watchin' for this coal for a month. Every October
there's a new contractor, and this time it was me friend Mr. Crane I've
worked for before. So I sees Duffy about it the other day, an' he says,
'Well, I think ye better talk to the quartermaster, who's away, but
who'll be home next week.' An' that night when I got home, there lay a
letter from Mr. Crane, wid another letter inside it Sergeant Duffy
had sent to Mr. Crane, sayin' he'd recommend Dan McGaw to do the
stevedorin'--the sneakin' villain--an' sayin' that he--Duffy--was
a-goin' to inspect the coal himself, an' if his friend Dan McGaw hauled
it, the quality would be all right. Think of that! I tell ye, Mr.
Babcock, they're divils. Then Mr. Crane put down at the bottom of his
letter to me that he was sorry not to give me the job, but that he must
give it to Duffy's friend McGaw, or Duffy might reject the coal. Wait
till I wash me hands and I'll tell ye how I fixed him," she added
suddenly, as with a glance at her fingers she