"You always toketie, tenas," said the old witch truly enough. "I do up yo' hair, tenas. By-by you mamook wash yo' face, and be very pretty. Mista Quin mamook wash every day, him gleat man, skookum man, very lich, very lich, plenty dolla. Him love you mo' than one hundred dolla." She did up Jenny's mass of tumbled black hair, and wiped her face with a rag. She wetted it in her mouth. "Now you clean," said Annie. "What time Mista Quin come to him house?" She peered from behind her stump, and presently saw Quin come up the hill. As he passed her she called to him in a low voice. "Yahkwa, here, Mista Quin." And Quin came across the brush to them. Jenny buried her face in her hands and her shoulders troubled. "I bling her," said Annie. "She much aflaid, hyu kwass, of Pete. He say he makee her mimaloose, kill her dead, she muchee aflaid, and she tikegh you, love you always." Jenny shook and trembled like a beaten dog. "She now very dirty and bad dless, but you mamook wash, and she hyu toketie. No klootchman here like Jenny. Now, tenas, you klatawa in house quick." She dragged the trembling child to her feet, and then held out her hand to Quin. "You give me the dolla?" And Quin gave her the money in notes. She knew well enough what each one was worth. "Now I tell Pete she klatawa with shipman Jack to Victoly, ha!" She scrambled down the hill and Quin took Jenny by the arm. "Come, tenas," he said in a shaking voice. But it was a kind voice after all, and Jenny burst into a torrent of sobs and clung to him. "I have much shem," she said, "I have much shame." Even Quin had some too, poor devil. They went into the house. VI By the time that the evening sun, slanting westwards to the Pacific, which roared on wild beaches sixteen miles away, shone into the western end of the Mill, Pete had worked the anger out of his heart as healthy children of the earth must do. The song of the Mill was no longer angry or menacing: it became a harmony and was even sweet. Work went beautifully: the logs were sweet-cutting spruce for the most part, or splendid pine, or odorous red cedar, and one precious log of white cedar. The saws ran easy and their filed teeth were sharp: the Hoes said "We can do, we can do," and the Pony Saw piped cleanly and clear, while the Trimmers, though they cut across the grain, cut most swiftly, and said, "Gee whiz, gee whiz." Young Willett was pleased to get the Big Trimmer and Wong most proud to run the Chinee one, which by its name certainly belonged of old to some Chinaman, perhaps now in the country of Green Tea and Bamboos, and forgetful of his ancient toil in alien lands. The engines, too, ran well and the sawdust carriers did not break down, and no belt parted, and nobody but Ginger White said much that was uncivil, and if he went no further than that no one minded him any more than they minded the weather or the wind.