Audry Ferris seemed not to share Tom’s liking for this hapless band. Perhaps it was natural that a purposeful, intelligent girl of strong character should look askance at this handful of queer men exhibiting so much of the vagabond temperament. Perhaps she contrasted them with her brother, strong, responsible, efficient. Their amiability and free and easy way of taking their employment, their humorous squint at the serious work of life, seemed to annoy her and she regarded them all with a sort of tolerant disdain. She had no faith even in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, as Ferris called them, who by their fidelity had certainly earned the right to some consideration. “They stay because there’s nothing else they can do,” she said. Tom had hoped that he might see Audry before he began work but he had to be content with hearing her voice in the kitchen where she was talking volubly with Miranda. He thought that her non-appearance at breakfast might be attributable to the fact that she had forgotten all about him. But indeed it was because Miranda had neglected to iron a certain gown. Poor Tom did not flatter himself that it was on his account this gown had been wanted. Audry was evidently discussing the latest case in the epidemic of desertions which raged on the mountain, and as Tom sat on the edge of the tiny porch waiting for Ferris he could not help hearing. “Not able to do the work! That’s all nonsense!” Audry was saying to the accompaniment of the clatter of dishes. “He could rest for a day or so and then go on, couldn’t he? He promised Niel he’d stay a month, didn’t he? It’s his plain duty to stay—no matter _what_. He just wants to give up, that’s all; he hasn’t any sense of obligation.” “Lord a massy, chil’,” said Miranda. “He done be sick dat boy, he shu done be sick. Der ain’t no obilation when you sick, chil’.” “Yes there is,” said Audry. “He said he’d stay and he signed a paper. Of course duties are sometimes hard and unpleasant. Do you think I don’t know that? But if I _agreed_ to do a thing and knew that I _ought_ to do it, I’d do it no matter _what_. I’d rather be sick than be _weak_—_ugh!_” “Lor’, chil’,” said Miranda, “you think ib young Massa Spade—” “His name is Slade,” said Audry impatiently. “And I can tell you beforehand that he wouldn’t, so there. He’s been all through the scouts and he’s head of a big camp and everybody that has read anything about the scouts _knows_ that good citizenship is—it’s just a byword with them—I mean a slogan—it’s their motto. He went to war, didn’t he? Niel says he did, so there! Do you suppose he went because it was fun? Hmph! He went because his duty was above everything else. You can see it in his face.” “Ned Whalen, he done go to war too,” ventured the amiable cook.