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Updated: May 9, 2025
"What's all this?" he inquired. "What racket's this? Is it beating your sister you are? Is the young headstrong profligate beating you, Maura, eh?" "No, Hugh, not that; but he wants the kay to deck himself up for marrying that pot of his. God knows, I'd rather he did beat me than do what he's going to do."
But one and all understood the threat and waited motionless. Nor did they have to wait long. "Gals," said Buck sternly, "this racket's played out. Ther's been shootin' to-night over the same thing. Wal, ther's going to be more shootin' if it don't quit right here.
He went to an adjoining room and called Sam, the contractor's man. He took in the situation at a glance. "Wa'al, Foster," said he, "kind o' 'close call' for yer, warn't it? Guess yer'd better be gittin' up an' gittin' pretty lively. The train boys will take yer through an' yer kin come back when this racket's worked out." Sinclair glanced at his watch, then he walked to the window and looked out.
Just outside, under the old oak, a portly dame was dishing out lemonade for a nickel to late-comers, while a group of boys were playing leap-frog. Job struggled through the outer crowd and pushed inside, only to find himself in the center of "the gang," who greeted him with a wink and a whisper, "The speakin' racket's next!" "Oh, that with yonder sacred throng We at His feet may fall!"
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