"Thank you, Mr. McKaye."

"Mind you don't abuse your monopoly. If you do, I'll take it away from
you."

"You are very kind, sir. And I can have the Sawdust Pile, sir?"

"Yes; since Donald gave it to you. However, I wish you'd tear down
that patchwork fence and replace it with a decent job the instant you
can afford it."

"Ah, just wait," old Brent promised. "I know how to make things neat
and pretty and keep them shipshape. You just keep your eye on the
Sawdust Pile, sir." The old wind-bitten face flushed with pride; the
faded sea-blue eyes shone with joyous anticipation. "I've observed
your pride in your town, sir, and before I get through, I'll have a
prettier place than the best of them."

A few days later, The Laird looked across the Bight of Tyee from his
home on Tyee Head, and through his marine glasses studied the Sawdust
Pile. He chuckled as he observed that the ramshackle shanty had
disappeared almost as soon as it had been started and in its place a
small cottage was being erected. There was a pile of lumber in the
yard--bright lumber, fresh from the saws--and old Caleb Brent and the
motherless Nan were being assisted by two carpenters on the Tyee
Lumber Company's pay-roll.

When Donald came home from school that night, The Laird asked him
about the inhabitants of the Sawdust Pile with relation to the lumber
and the two carpenters.