e kids
get a square deal--their chance to grow and play and be healthy and
happy and make good. And I wish again," said the Butterfly Man,
looking at his hearers with his steady eyes, "I wish that you folks,
every God-blessed one of you, will help to make that wish come true,
so far as lies in your power, from now until you die!" His funny,
twisty smile flashed out. He put the fairy tress back into his breast
pocket, made a casual gesture to imply that he had concluded his
wishes for the present; and walked off in the midst of the deepest
silence that had ever fallen upon an Appleboro audience.

But however willing we might be, we discovered that we could not do
things as quickly or as well as might be wished. People who wanted to
help blundered tactlessly. People who wanted to be helped had to be
investigated. People who ought to be helped were suspicious and
resentful, couldn't always understand or appreciate this sudden
interest in their affairs, were inclined to slam doors, or, when
cornered, to lie stolidly, with wooden faces and expressionless eyes.

Ensued an awkward pause, until the Butterfly Man came unobtrusively
forward, discovering in himself that amazing diplomacy inherent in the
Irish when they attend to anybody's business but their own. It was
amusing to watch the only democrat in a solidly Democratic county
infusing something of his own unabashed humanness into proceedings
which but for him might have sloughed into

Organized charity, carefully iced,
In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ.

Having done what was to be done, he went about his own affairs. Nobody
gushed over him, and he escaped that perilous popularity which is as a
millstone around a man's neck. Nevertheless the Butterfly Man had
stumbled upon the something divine in his fellows, and they
entertained for him a feeling that wasn't any more tangible, say, than
pure air, and no more emotional than pure water, but was just about as
vital and life-giving.

I was enchanted to have a whole county endorse my private judgment. I
rose so in my own estimation that I fancy I was a bit condescending to
St. Stanislaus! I was vain of the Butterfly Man's standing--folks
couldn't like him too much, to please me. And I was greatly interested
in the many invitations that poured in upon him, invitations that
ranged all the way from a birthday party at Michael Karski's to a
state dinner at the Eustis's.

From Michael's he came home gaily