HIS WIFE

A Woman who had done nothing to Deserve it was the Wife of a Joiner. He
was the K.G. of one Benevolent Order and the Worshipful High Guy of
something else, and the Senior Warden of the Sons of Patoosh, and a lot
more that she couldn't keep track of.

When he got on all of his Pins he had Sousa put away.

Night after Night he was off to a Hall up a Dark Stairway to land some
Unfortunate into the Blue Lodge or the Commandery or else Over the Hot
Sands.

He carried at least twenty Rituals in his Head, and his Hands were all
twisted out of Shape from giving so many different Grips.

In the Morning when he came out of the House he usually found some one
waiting on the Door-Step to give him the Sign of Distress and work the
fraternal Pan-Handle on him. He subscribed for the Magazines that were
full of these sparkling Chapter Reports, and after that, if he had not
spent all his money going to Conclaves and Grand Lodge Meetings, he paid
Dues and Assessments and bought Uniforms. He had one Suit in particular,
with Frogs and Cords and Gold Braid strung around over the Front of it,
and then a Helmet with about a Bushel of Red Feathers. When he got into
this Rig and strapped on his Jeweled Sword he wouldn't have traded
Places with Nelson A. Miles.

His Wife often said that he ought not to leave her and take up with a
Goat, and that she could use on Groceries some of the Coin that he was
devoting to Velvet Regalia and Emblematic Watch-Charms, but he always
tried to make it Right with her by explaining that he had Insurance in
most of these Whispering Organizations, so that she and the Children
would come in for a whole Wad of Money. The Wife thought it was too long
to wait. He seemed to be in a Fair Way to live another Century and keep
on paying Assessments.

There was no use in Arguing with him. When a Man gets to be a confirmed
Joiner he is not Happy unless he can get into an unlighted Room two or
three Nights a Week, and wallop the Neophyte with a Stuffed Club, and
walk him into a Tub of Water, and otherwise Impress him with the
Solemnity of the Ordeal.

The real Joiner loves to sit up on an elevated Throne, wearing a Bib and
holding a dinky Gavel, and administer a blistering Oath to the Wanderer
who seeks the Privilege of helping to pay the Rent.

To a Man who does not cut very many Lemons around his own House, where
they are Onto him, it is a great Satisfaction to get up in a Lodge Hall
and put on a lot