"You'll get right out an' huyk them kiddies off'n those dumps," cried Bill sharply. "You got no more sense in your idjot head than to slep when your eyes shut. Diggin' worms on the dumps! Gee! Say, if it ain't enough to give 'em bile and measles, an'--an' spots, then I don't know a 'deuce-spot' from a hay-rake. Git right out, you loafin' bum, an' fetch 'em in, an' then get the muck off'n your face, an' clean this doggone shack up. I'd sure say you was a travelin' hospital o' disease by the look of you. I'm payin' you a wage and a heap good one, so git out--an' I'll see to that darn milk." Argument was out of the question, so Sunny adopted the easier course of obedience to his employer's orders. He dropped the spoon into the milk with a suddenness that suggested resentment, and shuffled out, muttering. But Bill followed him to the door. "How?" he inquired threateningly. "I didn't say nothin'," lied Sunny. "I didn't jest guess you did," retorted Bill sarcastically. And he watched his man hurry out into the sunlight with eyes that had somehow become less severe. He waited where he was for some moments. Then he turned back into the room and stared disgustedly about him. "If a feller can't fix two kiddies right an' cook 'em pap without mussin' things till you feel like dying o' colic at the sight, he ain't fit to rob hogs of rootin' space," he muttered. "I'd--Gee-whiz! Ther's that doggone milk raising blue murder wi'--" He rushed to the stove where the boiling milk was pouring over the sides of the pot in a hissing, bubbling stream. He clutched at the "billy," scalding his fingers badly, jerked it off the stove, upset the contents on the floor and flung the pot itself across the room, where it fell with a clatter upon a pile of dirty tin plates and pannikins. He swore violently and sucked his injured fingers, while, in angry dismay, he contemplated the additional mess his carelessness had caused. And at that moment Sunny returned, leading two grubby-faced infants by the hand. "I got 'em back," he cried cheerfully. Then his shrewd eyes took in the situation at a glance, and they sparkled with malicious glee. "Gee," he cried, releasing the youngsters and pointing at the mess on the stove and floor. "Now ain't that a real pity? Say, how d'you come to do that? It sure ain't a heap of trouble heatin' a drop o' milk. Most any fule ken do that. I tho't you savvied that, I sure did, or I'd ha' put you wise. Y'see, you should jest let it ha' come to the bile, an' then whip it off quick. My, but it's real foolish! Ten cents o' milk wasted for want of a little sense." "Our dinner milk," cried Vada in consternation. "All gone." "All dorn," echoed Jamie, flinging himself on the floor and dipping his fingers into the mess and licking them with grave appreciation.