"Oh, not so bad as that, Jeff!" said Stanley's father.
"Yes, my lad; you may make up your mind for the worst. Don't you grasp why they are breaking up the things?"
"Fire?" cried Stanley excitedly.
"Right, my lad. They're going to burn us out."
Stanley's father stamped heavily upon the floor in the impotent rage he felt.
"What's to be done, Jeff?" he said. "They'll beat us now."
"Fire for fire, brother Oliver," said Uncle Jeff through his teeth.--"Here, Stan, my lad, don't you begin thinking that your uncle is a bloodthirsty wretch, because all he asks for here is to be let alone to make his living and a bit to spare.--Do you hear