"Yes."

"I don't quite understand it. You are surely stronger than Bill. How did
it happen that you allowed him to strike you?"

"He had a hoe and I hadn't anything," answered Andrew meekly. "He was so
furious that he wouldn't have made anything of killing me."

"I always thought he was rather mild and milk-and-watery," said Nathan
Badger thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't have thought so if you'd seen him, Mr. Badger," said his
wife, drawing upon her imagination. "He looked like a young fiend. Dear
Andrew is right. The boy is positively dangerous! I don't know but we
shall be murdered in our beds some night if we let him go on this way."

Mr. Badger shrugged his shoulders, for he was not quite a fool, and
answered dryly:

"That thought won't keep me awake. He isn't that kind of a boy."

"Oh, well, Mr. Badger, if you are going to take his part against your
own flesh and blood, I've got no more to say."

"Who's taking his part?" retorted Mr. Badger sharply. "I'm not going to
uphold him in attacking Andrew, but I'm rather surprised at his
mustering spunk enough to do it. As for his doing us any harm, that's
all nonsense."

"You may change your mind when it's too late, Mr. Badger."

"Are you afraid of him?" asked her husband contemptuously as he regarded
the tall, muscular figure of his wife, who probably would have been a
match for himself in physical strength.

"I can defend myself if I am awake," said Mrs. Badger. "But what's to
hinder his attacking me when I'm asleep?"

"You can fasten your door if you are afraid. But that isn't my trouble
with him. There's something more serious, Mrs. B."

"What is it? What's he been doin'?"

"It isn't he. It's Charles Waldo. I'm free to say that Mr. Waldo is the
meanest man I ever had dealings with. You know I wrote to him to see if
he wouldn't allow me something extra toward the boy's keep."

"Yes."

"Well, read that letter. Or, stay, I'll read it to you."

Mr. Badger took the letter from his pocket and read it aloud to his wife
and son. Mrs. Badger was as much disappointed as her husband, for she
was quite as fond of money as he.

"What are you goin' to do?" she asked.

"I can't do anything," answered Mr. Badger in deep disgust.

"Will you keep the boy?"

"Of course I will. Between ourselves, he more than earns his victuals;
but, all the same, Mr. Waldo is perfectly able to allow us a little
profit."

"You must make him work harder," suggested Mrs. Badger.