ir of yours, Liff Loop. Nobody invited you to be
present. You go on home, now. Go on! You've contributed all that's
necessary to this here meetin'. Next thing we know, you'll be
contributin' your mother-in-law too. Get out, I say. Open the door,
Jake, an' head him that way. Easy, now! I didn't say to _stand_ him on
his head. He might accidently squash that new fewdory hat he's wearin'."

After Mr. Loop's unceremonious departure, the Marshal resumed his seat
and fell to twisting his sparse whiskers.

"What is your opinion, Mr. Crow," inquired Harry Squires, "as to the
amount we would have to pay a good detective to tackle the job?"

Mr. Crow ran a calculating eye over the crowd. He did not at once reply.
Finally he spoke.

"Between a hundred and five an' a hundred an' seven dollars," he said.
"It might run as high as hundred and ten," he added, as two or three
belated citizens entered the hall.

"Can we get a goot man for dot amoundt?" inquired Henry Wimpelmeyer, the
tanyard man.

"Well, we can get one that c'n tell whether it's daylight or dark
without lightin' a lantern to find out," said Mr. Crow in a slightly
bellicose tone.

"I ain't so sure aboudt dot," said Henry, eying the Marshal skeptically.
He had had it in for Marshal Crow ever since that official compelled him
to hang an American flag in front of his tanyard.

Luckily Uncle Dad Simms, who had not heard a word of the foregoing
remarks, piped up.

"This ain't no time to be thinkin' of unnecessary improvements, what
with peace not signed yet, an' labor an' material so high. I don't see
that there's any call for a new roof, anyway. S'posin' it does leak a
little once in a while. We've all got umbrellas, I guess, an'--"

"Wake up, wake up!" bawled Alf Reesling, close to the old man's ear. "We
ain't talkin' about a roof. Loop! That's what we're talkin' about!"

"What say?" squealed Uncle Dad, putting his hand to his ear. "My hearin'
is a little bad lately."

"I said you was the derndest old nuisance in town; that's what I
said--an' I don't care whether you hear me or not," roared Alf in
exasperation.

"That's better," said Uncle Dad, nodding his head approvingly. "But I
wish you wouldn't chaw tobacker, Alf," he added rather plaintively.

"Order!" commanded Marshal Crow, pounding on the table with his cane.
"Now, feller-citizens, let us git down to business. Most of us have got
to be home before nine o'clock, or the dickens will be to pay. All thos