citizen in your
position, first to meet all arriving strangers. Why does the name fit
this town?" He banged the handle of his knife on the table.

Mr. Britt had reason for the heat which he was displaying and which
caused the stranger to open his eyes more widely. Mr. Britt was fully
aware that men called him "Phay-ray-oh" and that his statue in the
cemetery was called "The Sphinx." He knew that since the town had
gone on the down grade through debt and the decay of industries the
inhabitants had begun to call themselves "The Children of Israel,"
and to say they were trying to make bricks without straw. In fact, an
itinerant evangelist who called himself "The Light of the World" had
come to town and was trying to exhort the inhabitants into rebellion
against conditions, and in his crack-brained hysteria was having some
success in exciting "The Children" to protest against the domination by
Tasper Britt.

Mr. Files was not as handy with his tongue as he was with the mallet
with which he pounded steak. He struggled with an inept reply about
an old town having a dignified old name. He stuttered and stopped when
Britt came and stood in front of him, chewing savagely on a toothpick.

"Files, I wasn't intending to make a formal announcement till my
political manager, Ossian Orne, gets back with reports from the field.
Not but what I expect that when it is known that I'm willing to accept
political honor it will be given to me. But when I sit in the next
legislature of this state as Representative Britt of Egypt, I propose to
represent a town that ain't slurred at home or abroad. Hereafter, mind
your tongue and advise others to do the same."

He stamped out. Landlord Files was left standing with an open mouth from
which no speech issued.

"Emperor, or only a plain king?" inquired the bagman.

"You being a stranger, I can let out some of my feelings," returned Mr.
Files. "Emperor, you say? He might just as well try to be one as to run
for the legislature."

The drummer showed interest.

"That's what getting to be a widderer can do to some men," confided the
landlord. He placed a smutty hand on the table and leaned down. "That
legislature thing ain't the half of it, mister! He hasn't blacked his
whiskers and bought that false mane simply so as to get into politics.
He's trying to court the prettiest girl in this town."

"Aha!" said the drummer. "The old story! Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, is
doing the job over again wit