"Oh, nothin' much," was the careless answer. "I hope you didn't threaten him, Tom?" Norman asked with some misgiving. "Na--I didn't threaten him. I spoke quiet and peaceable." "But what did you tell him?" the young leader persisted. "I jest told him I'd give him two minutes ter git back ter the kitchen or I'd blow his head off!" "I'm afraid our table will feel the effects of that remark, Tom," Barbara said, doubtfully. Next to the question of cooks the most urgent issue to be settled was the case of the scrubbers, cleaners, and drainmen. The women who had been assigned to the tasks of scrubbing the floors, washing the windows and dishes, had watched the triumphs of the cooks with keen appreciation of their own power. It was easy to see that the more disagreeable and disgusting the character of the work, the more extravagant the demands which could be made and enforced. The scrubbers and dishwashers boldly demanded one hundred dollars a month and six hours for a working day, and refused with sullen determination to argue the question. To Barbara's mild and gentle protest their answer was complete and stunning: "You have assigned us this dirty job. Do you want it at any price?" asked their orator. "I'll take yours without wages and jump at the chance." Tom lost all interest in the proceedings and drew himself up in a knot in his chair. Now and then a growl came from the depths of his throat. Once he was heard to distinctly articulate: "This makes me tired." The court begged and pleaded, cajoled, argued in vain with the stubborn scrubwomen. Not an inch would they move in their demands. The floors were becoming unspeakably filthy. They had not been scrubbed since the arrival of the colony. Norman turned to Barbara. "Put the question solemnly to ourselves--we don't want the job at any price, do we?" "I couldn't do it!" she admitted, frankly. "Then what's the use? We must be fair. It's worth what they ask." The court granted the demands and the scrubwomen and dishwashers marched to the kitchen and once more the chef tore his hair and cursed the fate which brought him to such disgrace as to work with stupid subordinates at equal wages and gaze on dishwashers and scrubwomen whose wages exceeded his own. The climax of all demands was reached when the drainman demanded a hundred and fifty dollars a month and four hours for each working day. Norman looked at him in dumb confusion. He knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth and he had no answer. The drainman bowed low in mock humility, but the proud wave of his hand belied his words. "My calling was a humble one in the old world, Comrade Judges," he said. "I came here to climb mountain heights and find my way among the stars. You have sent me back to the sewers. I always felt that I had missed my true calling. I've always wanted to be a poet----" The Bard shook his mane and groaned.