Back in the family burying ground in Boston was a mound that was fresher than others, a mound which shielded the form of a man who had died in disappointment, leaving behind an edict which his son had sworn to carry through to its fulfillment.

Now there were obstacles, and ones which were shielded by the darkness of connivance and scheming.

The outlook was not promising.

Yet even in its foreboding, there was consolation.
"I at least know Thayer's a crook.

I can fire him and run the mill myself," Barry was murmuring to himself, as he plodded along.