on, and I'll guarantee to have the corpse ready."

"In transactin' business it ain't no time for jokin'," protested the
direct Mr. Nute.

"There's no joke to it," returned the Cap'n, viciously, seizing a
pickaxe.

"It ain't much of a way for a first selectman of a town to act in
public," persisted Constable Nute, "when town business is put before
him."

That remark and a supercilious glance from the professor through his
cigarette smoke brought the Cap'n on the trot to the side of the
wagon.

"I'm 'tendin' to town business--don't you forget that! And I'm
'tendin' to it so close that I ain't got time to waste on any cheap
peep-show critters. Don't want 'em in town. Clear out!"

"I'll make you sorry for insulting a gentleman," the professor
threatened.

"Clear out!" insisted the Cap'n. "You ain't got any right drivin'
onto this road. It ain't been opened to travel--"

"And it looks as though it never would be," remarked Constable Nute,
sarcastically; but, daunted by the glare in the Cap'n's eyes, he
began to turn his horse. "I want you to understand, S'leckman Sproul,
that there are two other s'leckmen in this town, and you can't run
everything, even if you've started in to do it."

It was pointed reference to the differences that existed in the board
of selectmen, on account of Cap'n Sproul's determination to command.

Two very indignant men rode away, leaving a perfectly furious one
standing in the road shaking his fists after them. And he was the
more angry because he felt that he had been hastier with the constable
than even his overwrought state of mind warranted. Then, as he
reflected on the graveyard matter, his curiosity began to get the
better of his wrath, and to the surprise of his Vienna antagonist
he abandoned the field without another word and started for Smyrna
village with his men and dump-carts.

But dump-carts move slowly, and when the Cap'n arrived at the town
house Constable Zeburee Nute was nailing up a hand-bill that
announced that Professor Derolli, the celebrated hypnotist, would
occupy the town hall for a week, and that he would perform the
remarkable feat of burying a subject in the local graveyard for
forty-eight hours, and that he would "raise this subject from the
dead," alive and well. The ink was just dry on a permit to use the
graveyard, signed by Selectmen Batson Reeves and Philias Blodgett.
The grim experiment was to wind up the professor's engagement. In
the mean time he