which he was utterly unfitted. This
man was Joe Tucker, in charge of the almshouse.

He had not been selected by the town authorities on the ground of
fitness, but simply because he was willing to work cheap. He received a
certain low weekly sum for each one of his inmates, and the free use of
apartments for himself and family, with the right to cultivate the ten
acres of land connected with the establishment, and known as the Town
Farm.

His family consisted of three persons--himself, his wife, and a son,
Ezekiel, familiarly known as Zeke, now sixteen years old. The leading
family trait was meanness.

Mr. Tucker supplied a mean table even for a poorhouse, and some of the
hapless inmates complained bitterly. One had even had the boldness to
present a complaint to the selectmen, and that body, rather reluctantly,
undertook to investigate the justness of the complaint. They deputed
Squire Pope to visit the poorhouse and inquire into the matter.

Now, though Squire Pope thought himself unusually sharp, it was the
easiest thing in the world for a cunning person like Joe Tucker to
satisfy him that all was right.

"Mr. Tucker," said Squire Pope pompously, "I am deputed by the
selectmen, and I may add by the overseers of the poor, to investigate a
complaint made by one of the paupers in relation to the fare you offer
them."

"Who is it!" inquired Mr. Tucker.

"It is Ann Carter. She says you don't allow her sugar in her tea, and
only allow one slice of bread at supper, and that the meat is so bad she
can't eat it."

"Just like the old woman!" exclaimed Mr. Tucker indignantly. "Oh, she's
a high-strung pauper, she is! Expects all the delicacies of the season
for seventy-five cents a week. She'd ought to go to the Fifth Avenoo
Hotel in New York, and then I'll bet a cent she wouldn't be satisfied."

It is observable that even in his imaginary bets Mr. Tucker maintained
his economical habits, and seldom bet more than a cent. Once, when very
much excited, he had bet five cents, but this must be attributed to his
excited state of mind.

"So you regard her complaints as unreasonable, do you, Mr. Tucker?"
observed the investigating committee.

"Unreasonable? I should think they was. I allow, Squire Pope, we
don't live like a first-class hotel"--Mr. Tucker's language was rather
mixed--"but we live as well as we can afford to. As to sugar, we don't
allow the paupers to put it in for themselves, or they'd ruin us by
their ex