be completed.

But Saturday at dawn Cadge once more appeared, driving before him three
tear-stained and reluctant Cadgelets. They had inherited part of their
father's disposition in regard to real work, likewise his unwillingness
to be imposed upon. Constructing fortifications along the Catnip was
well enough for one Saturday, but their backs still ached from their
exertions, and they had only disdain for the restricted paternal
imagination which suggested that this time they build stone castles.

Their sire waxed eloquent over the art of castle building and the sport
of imprisoning ogres in them, but was finally compelled to assume the
attitude of an ogre himself, and threatened to skin them alive if they
did not do as they were bid.

It was a long, hard day for the whole Cadge family. The little Cadges
worked like galley-slaves in fear of the lash; their mother, out of pity
for them, laid two tiers of cobbles when she came at noon, and even
Cadge himself was tempted on one or two occasions to descend from his
nook and lend a hand, but restrained himself.

Again the owls hooted along the stream and bullfrogs croaked from the
reedy places. Cadge knocked the dottle out of his pipe and arose,
stretching his short, muscular limbs, which had become cramped from
sitting still so long.

"Run along 'ome, kiddies," he said, "and tell the old woman not to wait
supper for me. There's a man down town as wants to see me about a job.
I'll 'ave a bite with 'im."

The little Cadges disappeared in the twilight and their father presented
himself at the Widow Pipkin's door to receive his hard-earned wages.

"Oh, dear me! I can't pay you to-night," answered Mrs. Pipkin. "I never
keep any money in the house."

Cadge grumbled something about, a check would do. He was pretty sure
that the barkeeper at Spider Grogan's place would cash it.

"Oh, but mine is a savings account, and I will have to go down to the
bank myself and get the money; but, never mind, you shall have it first
thing Monday morning."

The thirsty man could find no solution to this problem and, although he
urged the Widow Pipkin to think of a way, as his "missus needed the
medicine something orful," that kind-hearted old lady could suggest
nothing more to the point than going at once with a mustard poultice to
the sufferer.

Old women are so set in their notions that the anxious husband was a
full half hour dissuading her, and, when he reached home with both han