"Oh, I don't know," Tom intervened. "Bill Roberts is a pretty
good boy from what I hear."

Saxon smiled with superior knowledge, and Sarah, catching her,
was infuriated.

"Why don't you marry Charley Long? He's crazy for you, and he
ain't a drinkin' man."

"I guess he gets outside his share of beer," Saxon retorted.

"That's right," her brother supplemented. "An' I know for a fact
that he keeps a keg in the house all the time as well."

"Maybe you've been guzzling from it," Sarah snapped.

"Maybe I have," Tom said, wiping his mouth reminiscently with the
back of his hand.

"Well, he can afford to keep a keg in the house if he wants to,"
she returned to the attack, which now was directed at her husband
as well. "He pays his bills, and he certainly makes good
money--better than most men, anyway."

"An' he hasn't a wife an' children to watch out for," Tom said.

"Nor everlastin' dues to unions that don't do him no good."

"Oh, yes, he has," Tom urged genially. "Blamed little he'd work
in that shop, or any other shop in Oakland, if he didn't keep in