"You'll have Johnny quitting the job," complained Pollard, frowning. "You
can't scare the poor devil out of his skin like that every time you want
coffee. Besides, why didn't you get up and get it for us yourself?"

Still she did not turn; but, covering a yawn, replied: "Rather sit here
and play."

Her father swelled a moment in rage, but he subsided again without
audible protest. Only he sent a scowl at Terry as though daring him to
take notice of this insolence. As for the other men, they had scattered
to various parts of the room and remained there, idly, while the boss and
the new hand drank the scalding coffee of Johnny. All this time Pollard
remained deep in thought. His meditations exploded as he banged the empty
cup back on the table.

"Kate, this stuff has got to stop. Understand?"

The soft jingling of the piano continued without pause.

"Stop that damned noise!"

The music paused. Terry felt the long striking muscles leap into hard
ridges along his arms, but glancing at the other four, he found that they
were taking the violence of Pollard quite as a matter of course. One was
whittling, another rolled a cigarette, and all of them, if they took any
visible notice of the argument, did so with the calmest of side glances.

"Turn around!" roared Pollard.