e inspiration. Several of our most public-spirited citizens
seemed to father it simultaneously.

"Why should Potts _not_ leave town--why should he not seek out a new
field of effort?"

"Field of effort" was a rank bit of poesy, it being certain that Potts
would never make an effort worthy of the name in any field whatsoever;
but the sense of it was plain.

Increasingly with the years had plans been devised to alleviate the
condition of Potts's residence among us. Some of these had required a
too definite and artificial abruptness in the mechanics of his removal;
others, like Eustace Eubanks's plot for having all our best people
refuse to notice him, depended upon a sensitiveness in the person aimed
at which he did not possess. Besides, there had been talk of disbarring
him from the practice of his profession, and I, as a lawyer, had been
urged to instigate that proceeding. Unquestionably there was ground for
it.

But now this random pleasantry of Solon Denney's set our minds to
working in another direction.

In the broad, pleasant window of the post-office, under the "NO LOAFING
HERE!" sign, half a dozen of us discussed it while we waited for the
noon mail. There seemed to be a half-formed belief that Potts might
adroitly be made to perceive advantages in leaving us.

"It's a whole lot better to manipulate and be subtle in a case like
this," suggested the editor of the _Argus_. "Threats of violence,
forcible expulsion, disbarment proceedings--all crude--and besides they
won't move Potts. Jonas Rodney may not be gifted with a giant intellect,
but he is cunning."

"The cunning of a precocious boy," prompted Eustace Eubanks, who was one
of us. "He is well aware that we would not dare attempt lawless
violence."

"Exactly, Eustace," answered Solon. "I tell you, gentlemen, this
thriving little town needs a canning factory, as we all know; but more
than a canning factory it needs a Boss,--one of those strong characters
that make tools of their fellow-men, who rule our cities with an iron
hand but take care to keep the hand in a velvet glove,--a Boss that is
diplomatic, yet an autocrat."

That careless use of the term "Boss" was afterward seen to be
unfortunate for Solon. They remembered it against him.

"That's right," said Westley Keyts. "Let's be diplomatic with him."

"How would _you_ begin, Westley, if you don't mind telling us?" Solon
had already begun to shape a scheme of his own.

"Why," answered Westley