Beam walked on his way, chuckling. Presently he encountered Nels Nelson and recounted what he had learned, with certain amendments and surmises of his own, ending with a special word regarding Jim. “Some boss,” he said, delightedly. “I’ve had a few bosses, but Sudden Jim he’s the boy for my money.” Which would have pleased Jim exceedingly had he overheard it. Jim devoured the breakfast the widow had ready for him, and went off to bed. He went to sleep with the satisfying consciousness that it was now open warfare between him and Moran. What he had done last night was both a declaration of war and an eloquent expression of his opinion of the man. He knew Moran would be able to translate it correctly. It was after one o’clock when Jim awoke, but he found the widow had kept his dinner warm for him. “’S my experience,” she said, severely, “that folks gits more for their money sleepin’ nights than daytimes.” “I was behaving myself, Mrs. Stickney. Honestly I was. At regular rates I earned two dollars watching in the mill.” “I was kind of disap’inted in you when you didn’t come home at all. But, ‘Boys will be boys,’ says I, ‘which won’t prevent my speakin’ my mind to him if he hain’t ready with a good excuse, which mostly young men is ready with and ain’t usually believed; but what kin a body do about it?’” “I hope you’ll do nothing rash,” Jim said, with specious soberness. “You won’t put me out in the street, will you?” “If it had been any of my husbands I’ll bet I’d ’a’ knowed the reason why,” she said, and disappeared into the kitchen, with an aggrieved air. Jim went out smiling; somehow the widow’s threatened scolding put him in a better humor with the world. It was good to know that somebody in Diversity had a real, friendly, motherly interest in him. His way led past Zaanan Frame’s office. Zaanan was standing on the step. “Afternoon,” said the old justice. “Hain’t much battered up as I kin see.” “I’m practically intact,” Jim said, gaily. “Folks round town has it there was consid’able trouble to the mill last night. You was reported laid up in bed with grievous injuries. Calc’lated I’d come round to see you.” “Nothing much. I just took Moran down to point out a circumstance to him.” “Moran? What’s he got to do with it?” “Why,” said Jim, “I met him when I got back to town and invited him down to the mill with me. I—er—rid myself of Mr. Kowterski in his presence and left him to think it over. Haven’t seen him since.” “He hain’t got any misgivin’s as to how you stand then, eh? You kind of rubbed his face in it, didn’t you? Leetle bit abrupt, wasn’t you?” “If there’s going to be a fight,” said Jim, “I want it to be a fight. No sneaking under cover.”