He had a brush in one hand and seemed disturbed about something.
"Where the brimstone does Mrs.Margery keep the scrubbing soap ?" he said.
Nobody answered him, and he moved back into the dust, while Seaforth was coming up the stairway carrying a mop and pail when a big empty oilcan smote him upon the chest.

He dropped the pail and leaned a moment, gasping and dripping, against the balustrade.
"You might notice where you're throwing things," he said.
The dust rolled more thickly, and Alton's voice came out of it.

"I hadn't time to be particular, and a sensible man would have got out of the way of it.

Don't stand there, anyway, but help me fix this place fit for a lady before Miss Deringham gets up.

Then you're going through to the railroad with the new pack-horse to wire for Mrs.
Margery after breakfast." "I don't think I am," said Seaforth.