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If she had been a little older, she might have concluded that the old maxim, slightly altered would explain the reason: "Like mistress, like man," that the atmosphere of kindness and charity that pervaded the house had inspired even the servants. "Where have you been, Katy?" asked Mrs. Redburn, as she entered the sick chamber, and Mrs. Sneed hastened home. "I have been to Mrs. Gordon."
Ye'll be like mos' folks I know, ef ye hev. I'd ruther use my own best jedgmint, a sight." At which another of the jury suavely remarked that they would seek to be impartial. "That's jes' what I kem along fur," exclaimed Persimmon Sneed triumphantly, "ter show ye edzac'ly whar the bull's eye be. Thar ain't no use fur this road, an' ye air bound ter see it ef ye ain't nowise one-sided and partial."
"Please, Tom, don't touch Sneed," she begged, crying harder than ever; and to still her sobs, he promised, though in his heart he vowed vengeance. "How did you happen to go blackberrying without me?" he asked to divert her attention from her anxiety over him. "I thought you wanted me to go with you."
Really the words need not have been said, and it was this feature of the "movies" that enabled Mr. DeVere to take up the work when he had failed in the "legitimate" because of his throat ailment. "Flee for your lives!" cried Mr. Sneed. "We're going to try to burn it back, or plow a strip that it can't get over." Thereupon ensued a scene of fear and excitement at the slab hut.
"I just can't be good when folks say such mean things. Joe Pomeroy is a sneak anyway, and I've been itching to lick him for a long, long time ever since Sneed hit me with the whip he uses to drive the cows with." "Did Sneed hit you with a whip?" "Yes. Oh, Tom, I never meant to tell you that!
"Open fires are always cold," complained Mr. Sneed. "You roast on one side, and freeze on the other." "Oh, I think it won't be quite as bad as that," laughed the manager. "But that is not all I have to say.
Madeline grasped his arm, held on, and peered fearfully from behind his broad shoulder. "You, Hawe! You, Sneed!" called Monty, in that same wild voice. "Don't you move a finger or an eyelash!" Madeline's faculties nerved to keen, thrilling divination. She grasped the relation between Monty's terrible cry and the strange hunched posture he had assumed.
Wondering what Little Jim was up to, Cheyenne turned and walked into the cabin. "Guess I'll wash up, first," he said, gazing about as though looking for the wherewithal to wash. He knew well enough where the basin was. He had noticed it out by the kitchen door, when he rode up to the cabin. Sneed told him where to find the basin. Cheyenne stepped round the cabin.
There had been much talk of an organized band who had assisted in these and similar exploits in secluded districts of the county, but Persimmon Sneed had given it scant credence until he beheld several armed men lagging in the rear, their amazed, uncouth faces, under their broad-brimmed hats, all weird and unnatural in the pervasive yellow glow.
Pepper Sneed was the "grouch" of the company, always finding fault, or worrying lest something happen. Paul Ardite was the "leading juvenile," the father of the moving picture girls being the leading man. The girls themselves, though comparatively new to the business, had made wonderful strides, for they had the advantage of private "coaching" at home from Mr. DeVere.
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