Luck had no qualms of conscience, either for his treatment of Martinson and his overtures, or for his disturbances of five other perfectly inoffensive movie managers.  He dressed with mechanical precision and with his mind shuttling back and forth from his Big Picture to the possibilities of his next position.  He folded his scenario and placed it in a long envelope, hunted until he found his rubbers, took his raincoat over his arm and his umbrella in his hand, and went blithely to the elevator.  It was too stormy for his machine, so he caught a street car and went straight to the bungalow where the Happy Family were still snoring at peace with the world and each other.

Still Luck had no qualms of conscience.  He lingered in the kitchen just long enough to say howdy to Rosemary Green who was anxiously watching a new and much admired coffee percolator “to see if it were going to perk,” she told him gravely.  He assured Rosemary that he had come all the way out there in the hope of being invited to breakfast.  Then he went into a sleep-charged atmosphere and gave a real, old-time range yell.

“Why, I saw that peaked little person with Mr. Martinson,” Mrs. Andy remarked slightingly at the breakfast table.  “Was that Bently Brown?  And he has the nerve to want to stand around and boss you—­oh, find, me an umbrella, somebody!  I shall choke if I can’t go and tell him to his silly, pink face what a conceited little idiot he is!” (You will see why it was that Rosemary Green had been adopted without question as a member of the Happy Family.) “I hope you told him straight out, Luck Lindsay, that these boys would simply tear him limb from limb if he ever dared to butt in on your work.  Why, it’s you that made the picture fit to look at!”

Luck let his eyes thank her for her loyalty, and held out his empty cup for more coffee.  “I came out,” he drawled quietly, “to find out what you fellows are going to do about it.  Of course, they’ll get somebody else to go ahead with the stuff, and you boys can stay with it—­”

“Well, say!  Did you come away out here in the rain to insult us fellers?” Big Medicine roared suddenly from the foot of the table.  “I’ll take a lot from you, but by cripes they’s got to be a line drawed somewheres!”

“You bet.  And right there’s where we draw it, Luck,” spoke up the dried little man who seldom spoke at the table, but concentrated his attention upon the joy of eating what Mrs. Andy set before him.  “I come out here to work for you.  That peters out, by gorry I’ll go back to chufferin a baggage truck in Sioux, North Dakoty.  Kin I have a drop more coffee, Mrs. Green?”

While Rosemary proudly brought her new percolator in from the kitchen and refilled his cup, Luck Lindsay sat and endured the greatest tongue-lashing of his life.  Furthermore, he seemed to enjoy the chorus of reproaches and threats and recriminations.  He chuckled over the eloquence of Andy Green, and he grinned at the belligerence of Pink and the melancholy of Happy Jack.