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Emilia, wholly attached to her family, continued to reside with the marchioness, who saw her race renewed in the children of Hippolitus and Julia. Thus surrounded by her children and friends, and engaged in forming the minds of the infant generation, she seemed to forget that she had ever been otherwise than happy.,But Bob refused to give up hope. Too much depended on his getting free and being at the dam in time to prevent anything serious happening. Back at the door, he threw his whole weight time and time again on the boards but they held firm. This way, too, was closed to him.,The work on the dam had gone smoothly since Mr. Whitney had taken the job over. Except for minor accidents, nothing really bothersome had happened to delay the work in any way, yet Bob, who was now constantly with the Chief, realized that something was bothering the man he was so fond of. Gone was the half chummy, half paternal air of Mr. Whitney. He was irritable and not at all himself.,When Jerry came up he saw what had called forth his comrade’s shout. The boat was lying wedged between two rocks on the opposite shore, one end entirely submerged by the rushing stream.,Mr. Whitney knew that something was wrong, but he did not know what. Bob’s confidence in his Chief was great but he feared that no matter how strong and capable Mr. Whitney might be, he would be powerless to avert the calamity that seemed on the way, unless he had some definite notice that it was approaching.,“Mother, Mother!” roared Nils. “Hurry! There are thieves at the apples! Oh, hurry!”,Bob was silent a moment, contrasting the life of ease he had spent with the experiences he had just listened to. Before he could speak, Jerry went on, laughing shortly.,And hails thy gradual step, thy influence mild.,[25]“When’s supper, Boss Whitney? I’m hungry enough to eat tacks!”,He stood behind her chair, looking eagerly over her shoulder at the stamp.,Still through the deep'ning gloom of bow'ry shades,THAT apple tree of Aunt Grenertsen’s was too tantalizing! Big, beautiful apples hung there day after day, and nobody ever seemed to think of such a thing as taking one off. Aunt Grenertsen might, for instance, so easily say to old Katrina, her housemaid: “Shake down an apple or two for Johnny Blossom”; but no indeed! Far from it. Never in the world had she suggested anything of the kind, although he had been in there every single day since the apples had begun to turn..