George scoffed at the idea of danger and laughed at the simplicity of the engine and machinery.  There was little for him to do.  He hated to be seen cleaning up the debris; men who stopped in passing kept telling what a fine fellow young Bates was, what good timber he was sending in.  Several of them told George frankly they thought that was to be his job.  He was so ashamed of that, he began instant improvisation.

“That was the way we first planned things,” he said boastfully, “but when it came to working out our plans, we found I would be needed here till I learned the business, and then I’m going on the road.  I am going to be the salesman.  To travel, dress well, eat well, flirt with the pretty girls, and take big lumber orders will just about suit little old Georgie.”

“Wonder you remembered to put the orders in at all,” said Jim Milton dryly.

George glared at him.  “Well, just remember whom you take orders from,” he said, pompously.

“I take them from Mrs. Holt, and nobody else,” said Milton, with equal assurance.  “And I’ve yet to hear her say the first word about this wonderful travelling proposition.  She thinks she will do well to fill home orders and ship to a couple of factories she already has contracts with.  Sure you didn’t dream that travelling proposition, George?”

At that instant George wished he could slay Jim Milton.  All day he brooded and grew sullen and ugly.  By noon he quit working and went down town.  By suppertime he went home to prove to his wife that he was all right.  She happened to be coming across from the mill, where she had helped Milton lay the first fire under the boiler ready to touch off, and had seen the first log on the set carriage.  It had been agreed that she was to come over at opening time in the morning and start the machinery.  She was a proud and eager woman when she crossed the bridge and started down the street toward the gate.  From the opposite direction came George, so unsteady that he was running into tree boxes, then lifting his hat and apologizing to them for his awkwardness.  Kate saw at a glance that he might fall any instant.  Her only thought was to help him from the street, to where children would not see him.

She went to him and taking his arm started down the walk with him.  He took off his hat to her also, and walked with wavering dignity, setting his steps as if his legs were not long enough to reach the walk, so that each step ended with a decided thump.  Kate could see the neighbours watching at their windows, and her own children playing on the roof of the woodshed.  When the children saw their parents, they both stopped playing to stare at them.  Then suddenly, shrill and high, arose Adam’s childish voice: 

   “Father came home the other night,
    Tried to blow out the ’lectric light,
    Blew and blew with all his might,
    And the blow almost killed Mother.”