med Cottsill, jumping up and down.

"Vulgar! Vulgar!" chimed in Maverick, whom the term bean talk had
nettled.

But Totts had spied the list of Jesse Willows, and was pointing at it
disdainfully. "And pray," said he, "what may a coat-house be?"

Now the handsome young man from Paw-paw was the last person to select
for addressing in such a tone as Lysander Totts had taken.

"I beg yore pardon, suh?" he remarked, so politely that I became filled
with apprehension.

Miss Appleby was gazing at him with all her eyes. "What do you think of
him?" she whispered to me.

I suppose that indignation at his unwarrantable treatment of me in the
car rendered me imprudent. "My dear Miss Appleby," I said to her, "my
dear Gertrude, he is as beautiful as the day, as ignorant as a
Socialist, and as dishonest as a plumber."

"How dare you speak of my husband so?" she replied. "We were married
this morning. That's all we came for to your silly convention. Good-by."
And rising, she swept out of the room.

But her exit was unobserved. The great West was still rattling on its
blackboards, Maverick and Cottsill were scowling darkly at Totts. Totts
was pointing one finger at coat-house, and Willows was smiling steadily
at Totts, in a manner that now convinced me we were approaching the edge
of something quite particular. Nor did even the bridegroom know that his
bride had left us.

"I beg yore pardon, suh?" he repeated.

"Coat-house. What's that?" said Totts.

"It is whah they'd have you, suh, if they caught you teachin' any o'
those railroad accidents o' yore's to the young."

"Yes, indeed; yes, indeed!" cried Maverick and Cottsill, eagerly.

Totts loudly blew his nose. "It shall remain court-house in the
dictionary of scholars," he remarked.

Willows ran his eye up and down Totts' list, and then up and down Totts.
"Schooling," he softly returned, "has done powerful little for the
Amurrican who sails to Yurrup and puts surrup on his hot cakes."

"Yes, indeed; yes, indeed!" said Cottsill and Maverick again.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" pleaded Kibosh, "do not quarrel."

"Kwawrul, you mean," smiled Jesse Willows. "It's immawrul to kwawrul in
Surracuse, Noo Yorruk."

Totts now began to show signs of jumping up and down.

"Have we adopted phonetic spelling, or have we not?" he roared.

"Not yore kind," said Willows.

"Yore!" echoed Totts. "Listen to that dialect!" And he blew his noise
more loudly.

"Hup, hup," began Egghorn;