The conference lasted until noon. Then the men separated outside the barroom. From the expression on the face of each one as he emerged from the door it was evident that the meeting had not produced any very cheering or conclusive results. McGaw had that vindictive, ugly, bulldog look about the eyes and mouth which always made his wife tremble when he came home. The result of the present struggle over the contract was a matter of life or death to him. His notes, secured by the chattel mortgage on his live stock, would be due in a few days. Crane had already notified him that they must be paid, and he knew enough of his moneylender, and of the anger which he had roused, to know that no extension would be granted him. Losing this contract, he had lost his only hope of paying them. Had it been awarded him, he could have found a dozen men who would have loaned him the money to take up these notes and so to pay Crane. He had comforted himself the night before with the thought that Justice Rowan could find some way to help him out of his dilemma; that the board would vote as the justice advised, and then, of course, Tom's bid would be invalidated. Now even this hope had failed him. “Whoever heard of a woman's doing a job for a city?” he kept repeating mechanically to himself. Tom knew of none of these conspiracies. Had she done so they would not have caused her a moment's anxiety. Here was a fight in which no one would suffer except the head that got in her way, and she determined to hit that with all her might the moment it rose into view. This was no brewery contract, she argued with Pop, where five hundred men might be thrown out of employment, with all the attendant suffering to women and children. The village was a power nobody could boycott. Moreover, the law protected her in her rights under the award. She would therefore quietly wait until the day for signing the papers arrived, furnish her bond, and begin a work she could superintend herself. In the meantime she would continue her preparations. One thing she was resolved upon--she would have nothing to do with the Union. Carl could lay his hand on a dozen of his countrymen who would be glad to get employment with her. If they were all like him she need have no fear in any emergency. She bought two horses--great strong ones,--at the trolley sale, and ordered two new carts from a manufacturer in Newark, to be sent to her on the first of the coming month. Her friends took her good fortune less calmly. Their genuine satisfaction expressed itself in a variety of ways. Crane sent her this characteristic telegram:-- “Bully for you!” Babcock came all the way down to her home to offer her his congratulations, and to tender her what assistance she needed in tools or money.