"Who might you be?" he asked, casually, his half-shut eyes making an inventory of Peters. "I'm the manager!" Peters snapped. "No, you ain't," said Bill, grinning. "What's the reason I ain't?" inquired Peters. "Because you're fired," said Bill, calmly, turning his back and putting his hands in his pockets. He gazed slowly around from floor to ceiling, and then at the walls. Peters came from behind the desk and stood close to him. "Say, Mrs. Jones pulled something like that on me," he said, "but I ain't taking no orders from you people! I take my orders from Mr. Hammond!" "Is that so?" asked Bill, nonchalantly. Drawing a letter from his pocket, he handed it to the clerk. "Well, here they are!" he said. Peters opened the letter and read it. "Well, if I'm fired," he sighed, "I suppose I can go back to my old job." A stealthy foot on the floor made Bill turn around to greet Zeb, who had put his head in the door. "Got a segar for me, Bill?" Zeb whispered. Bill went over to the drawer in the California desk, where he knew there was a box of cigars. He took one, extending it to Zeb. But the latter, looking toward the dining-room, saw Millie coming, and in spite of the fact that he wanted that cigar as desperately as he had ever wanted anything, force of habit sent him scuttling out of the room as he warned Bill, hoarsely, "Look out!" Bill called him back. "What you 'fraid of? It's only Millie." "Well," said Zeb, intrepid enough to grab the cigar, but not brave enough to stay, "I'll see you to-morrow, when the women-folks is working. It's safer then." Millie rushed over and took Bill in her arms, kissing him again and again, while Bill, unused to such demonstration, tried to disengage himself. "Did you just get here, daddy?" she asked, gazing fondly at him. "Yes," was his reply, as he sat down in the chair in front of the table. "Have you seen mother?" she asked, standing very close to him. Bill, remembering the old days when his return home meant a searching examination as to soberness, grinned, and then he breathed deeply toward her. "I 'ain't had a drink in a month," he informed her. She laughed and was silent for a moment. Looking down at the floor, she asked, "Did you come alone, daddy?" "Yes," he answered, slowly scrutinizing her. "Why didn't you speak to John before you left the court to-day?" he asked, after a moment in which he gazed at her intently. Tears came into her eyes and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I just couldn't, daddy, that was all." Bill placed a reassuring hand on her hair. "Well, it's all right. I fixed it for you," he said, slowly. Millie stepped back aghast, blushing violently. "You did _what_?" But Bill was unabashed. "I got him to promise he would come over here and see you." Bill had done no such thing, but the one flaw to a perfect happiness for him was the thought that John Marvin and Millie might not make up. "You asked him to come over and see me?" Millie asked, in dismay.