There's no reason why the Double-Crank should be a hog and keep a good man forever." The foreman studied keenly the face of Charming Billy, saw there an immobility that somehow belied his cheerful view of the case, and abruptly changed the subject.
"You've got things swept and garnished, all right," he remarked, looking at the nearly clean floor with the tiny pools of dirty water still standing in the worn places.

"When did the fit take yuh?
Did it come on with fever-n'-chills, like most other breaking-outs?
Or, did the girl--" "Aw, the darned dawg mussed up the floor, dying in here," Billy apologized weakly.

"I was plumb obliged to clean up after him." He glanced somewhat shamefacedly at the floor.

After all, it did not look quite like the one where Miss Bridger lived; in his heart Billy believed that was because he had no strip of carpet to spread before the table.

He permitted his glance to take in the bunk, nakedly showing the hay it held for a softening influence and piled high with many things--the things that would not go beneath.
"Your soogans are gathering frost to beat the band, Bill," the foreman informed him, following his glance to the bunk.