newspapers tell them to think. And this is your great big chance to
get the town ear and shout into it good and loud."

A week or so later Mayne & Son surprised Appleboro by purchasing the
moribund _Clarion_. They didn't have to go into debt for it, either.
They got it for an absurdly low sum, although folks said, with sniffs,
that anything paid for that rag was too much.

"Nevertheless," said the Butterfly Man to me, complacently, "that's
the little jimmy that's going to grow up and crack some fat cribs.
Watch it grow!"

I watched; but, like most others, I was rather doubtful. It was true
that the _Clarion_ immediately showed signs of reviving life. And that
Jim Dabney, a college friend from upstate, whom Laurence had induced
to accept the rather precarious position of editor and manager, wrote
pleasantly as well as pungently, and so set us all to talking.

I suppose it was because it really had something to say, and that
something very pertinent to our local interests and affairs, that we
learned and liked to quote the _Clarion_. It made a neat appearance in
new black type, and this pleased us. It had, too, a newer, clearer,
louder note, which made itself heard over the whole county. The county
merchants and farmers began once more to advertise in its pages, as
John Flint, who watched it jealously--feeling responsible for
Laurence's purchase of it--was happy to point out.

One thing, too, became more and more evident. The women were behind
the _Clarion_ in a solid phalanx. They knew it meant for them a voice
which spoke articulately and publicly, an insistent voice which must
be answered. It noticed every Mothers' Meeting, Dorcas activity,
Ladies' Aid, Altar Guild, temperance gathering; spoke respectfully of
the suffragists and hopefully of the "public-spirited women" of the
new Civic League. And never, never, never omitted nor misplaced nor
misspelled a name! The boy from up-state saw to that. He was wily as
the serpent and simple as the dove. Over the local page appeared
daily:

"LET'S GET TOGETHER!"

After awhile we took him at his word and tried to ... and things began
to happen in Appleboro.

"Here," said the Butterfly Man to me, "is where the bluejay begins to
get his."

For in most Appleboro houses insistent women were asking harassed and
embarrassed men certain questions concerning certain things which
ladies hadn't been supposed to know anything about, much less worry
their heads over,