Mrs. Beezer found the book. That's what probably started things along toward a showdown. She was, as has been said, a very large woman; also she was a very capable woman of whom Beezer generally stood in some awe, who washed, and ironed, and cooked for the Beezer brood during the day, and did overtime at nights on socks and multifarious sewing, including patches on Beezer's overalls--and other things, which are unmentionable. The book fell out of the pocket of one of the other things, one evening. Mrs. Beezer examined it, discovered MacAllister's name scrawled on it, and leaned across the table under the paper-shaded lamp in their modest combination sitting and dining room. "What are you doing with this, Mr. Beezer?" she inquired peremptorily; Mrs. Beezer was always peremptory--with Beezer. Beezer coughed behind his copy of the Big Cloud _Daily Sentinel_. "Well?" prompted Mrs. Beezer. "I brought it home for the children to read," said Beezer, who, being uncomfortable, sought refuge in the facetious. "Mr. Beezer," said Mrs. Beezer, with some asperity, "you put down that paper and look at me." Mr. Beezer obeyed a little doubtfully. "Now," continued Mrs. Beezer, "what's got into you since you went into the roundhouse, I don't know; but I've sorter had suspicions, and this book looks like 'em. You might just as well make a clean breast of what's on your mind, because I'm going to know." Beezer looked at his wife and scowled. He felt what might be imagined to be somewhat the feelings of a man who is caught sneaking in by the side entrance after signing the pledge at a Blue Ribbon rally. It was not a situation conducive to good humor. "There ain't anything got into me," said he truculently. "If you want to know what I'm doing with that book, I'm reading it because I'm interested in it. And I've come to the conclusion that a fitter's job alongside of an engineer's ain't any better than a mud-picking Polack's." "You should have found that out before you went into the shops ten years ago," said Mrs. Beezer, with a sweetness that tasted like vinegar. "Ten years ago!" Beezer flared. "How's a fellow to know what he's cut out for, and what he can do best, when he starts in? How's he to know, Mrs. Beezer, will you tell me that?" Mrs. Beezer was not sympathetic. "I don't know how he's to know," she said, "but I know that the trouble with some men is that they don't know when they're well off, and if you're thinking of----" "I ain't," said Beezer sharply. "I said 'if,' Mr. Beezer; and if----" "There's no 'if' about it," Beezer lied fiercely. "I'm not----"