to the _Banner_ office an'--say, didn't you know the People's Party
nominated a full ticket las' night over at Odd Fellers' Hall?"

Anderson submitted himself to be led--or rather dragged--around the
corner into Sickle Street.

Several business men aroused from mid-morning lassitude allowed their
chairs to come down with a thump upon divers mercantile porches, and
fell in behind the two principal citizens of Tinkletown. Something
terrible must have happened or Marshal Crow wouldn't be summoned in any
such imperative manner as this.

[Illustration: _Something terrible must have happened or Marshal Crow
wouldn't be summoned in any such imperative manner as this_]

"What's up, Anderson?" called out Mort Fryback, the hardware dealer,
wavering on one leg while he reached frantically behind him for his
crutch. Mort was always looking for excitement. He hadn't had any to
speak of since the day he created the greatest furor the town had
experienced in years by losing one of his legs under an extremely heavy
kitchen stove.

"Is there a fire?" shouted Mr. Brubaker, the druggist, half a block
away.

* * * * *

Mr. Jones, proprietor of the _Banner_ Job Printing office, obligingly
produced the "galley-proof" of the account of the People's Convention,
prepared by his "city editor," Harry Squires, for the ensuing issue of
the weekly. Mr. Squires himself emerged from the press-room, and
sarcastically offered his condolences to Anderson Crow.

"Well, here's a pretty howdy-do, Anderson," he said, elevating his
eye-shade to a position that established a green halo over a perfectly
pink pate.

"Howdy-do," responded Anderson, with unaccustomed politeness. He was
staring hard at the dirty strip of paper which he held to the light.

"Didn't I _tell_ you?" exclaimed Alf Reesling triumphantly. "There she
is, right before your eyes."

Mr. Reesling employed the proper gender in making this assertion. "She"
was right before the eyes of every one who cared to look. Anderson
slowly read off the "ticket." His voice cracked deplorably as he
pronounced the last of the six names that smote him where he had never
been smitten before.

Clerk--Henry Wimpelmeyer

Justice of the Peace--William Kiser

Selectman, First District--Otto Schultz

Selectman, Second District--Conrad Blank

Selectman, Third District--Christopher Columbus Callahan

Marshal--Minnie Stitzenberg.

A long silence followed the last sy