LITMIR.BIZ

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then who should get up but Jotham Gale. He talks humble, like a has-been that knows he's a back number, but he says it's his privilege to cast his fust vote in that club for Mr. Holway, South Orham's pride. Nobody was expectin' him to say anything, and the cheers pretty nigh broke the winders.

      “Gabe was turrible affected by the soft soap, you could see that. He fairly sobbed as he sprinkled gratitude and acceptances. When the agony was over, he says the votin' can begin.

      “I cal'lated he expected somebody'd move to make it unanimous, but they didn't. So the blank ballots was handed around, and the pencils got busy. Gabe app'ints three tellers, Bassett and Ellis, of course, for two—and the third, Jotham Gale.

      “'As a compliment to our newest member,' says the chairman, smilin' philanthropic.

      “When the votes was in the hat, the tellers retired to the amusement room to count up. It took a long time. I see the Conservatives and Progressives nudgin' each other and winkin' back and forth. Five minutes, then ten, then fifteen.

      “And all of a sudden the biggest row bu'st loose in that amusement room that ever you heard. Rattlety—bang! Biff! Smash! The door flew open, and in rolled Bassett and Ellis, all legs and arms. Gabe and some of the rest hauled 'em apart and held 'em so, but the language them two hove at each other was enough to bring down a judgment.

      “'Gentlemen! gentlemen!' hollers poor Gabe. 'What in the world? I am astounded! I—'

      “'You miserable traitor!' shrieks Gaius, wavin' a fist at Dan.

      “'You low-down hound!' whoops Dan back at him.

      “'Silence!' bellers Gabe, poundin' thunder storms on the desk. 'Will some one explain why these maniacs are—Ah, Mr. Gale—thank goodness, YOU at least are sane!'

      “Jotham walks to the front of the platform. He was holdin' the hat and a slip of paper with the result set down on it.

      “'Ladies and feller members,' says he, 'there's been some surprisin' votin' done in this election. Things ain't gone as we cal'lated they would, somehow. Mr. Holway, your election wa'n't unanimous, after all.'

      “The way he said it made most everybody think Gabe was elected, anyhow, and I guess Holway thought so himself, for he smiled forgivin' and says:

      “'Never mind, Mr. Gale,' says he. 'A unanimous vote was perhaps too much to expect. Go on.'

      “'Yes,' says Jotham. 'Well, here's the way it stands. I'll read it to you.'

      “He fixes his specs and reads like this:

      “'Number of votes cast, 32.'

      “'Honorable Atkinson Holway has 4.'

      “'WHAT?' gasps Stingy Gabe, fallin' into his chair.

      “'Yes, sir,' says Jotham. 'It's a shame, I know, but it looks as nobody voted for you, Mr. Holway, but yourself and me and Dan and Gaius. To proceed:

      “'Daniel Bassett has 9.'

      “The Conservatives and their women folks fairly groaned out loud. Tompkins jumped to his feet, but Jotham held up a hand.

      “'Just a moment, D'rius,' he says. 'I ain't through yet.'

      “'Gaius Ellis has 9.'

      “Then 'twas the Progressives' turn to groan. The racket and hubbub was gettin' louder all the time.

      “'There's ten votes left,' goes on Jotham, 'and they bear the name of Jotham W. Gale. I can't understand it, but it does appear that I'm elected president of this 'ere club. Gentlemen, I thank you for the honor, which is as great as 'tis unexpected.'

      “Gabe and the Progressives and the Conservatives set and looked at each other. And up jumps 'Bije Simmons, and calls for three cheers for the new president.

      “Nobody jined in them cheers but the old billiard room gang; they did, though, every one of 'em, and Jotham smiled fatherly down on his flock.

      “I s'pose there ain't no need of explainin'. Jotham had worked it all, from the very fust. When the tie business begun and Gaius and Dan was bribin' the billiard roomers to jine the club, 'twas him that fixed how they should vote so's to keep the deadlock goin'. 'Twas him that put Bassett up to proposin' him as a member. 'Twas him that suggested Gabe's comin' back to Gaius. 'Twas him that—But what's the use? 'Twas him all along. He was IT.

      “That night everybody but the billiard-room gang sent in their resignation to that club. We refused to be bossed by such people. Gabe resigned, too. He was disgusted with East Harniss and all hands in it. He'd have took back the clubhouse, but he couldn't, as the deed of gift was free and clear. But he swore he'd never give it another cent.

      “Folks thought that would end the thing, because it wouldn't be self-supportin', but Jotham had different idees. He simply moved his pool tables and truck up from the old shop, and now he's got the finest place of the kind on the Cape, rent free.

      “'I told you 'twould make a good billiard saloon, didn't I, Bailey?' he says, chucklin'.

      “'Jotham,' says I, 'of your kind you're a perfect wonder.'

      “'Well,' says he, 'I diagnosed that men's club as sufferin' from acute politics. I've been doctorin' that disease for a long time. The trouble with you reformers,' he adds, solemn, 'is that, when it comes to political doin's, you ain't practical.'

      “As for Stingy Gabe, he shut up his fine house and moved to New York. Said he was through with helpin' the moral tone.

      “'When I die,' he says to me, 'if I go to the bad place I may start in reformin' that. It don't need it no more'n South Orham does, but 'twill be enough sight easier job.'

      “And,” concluded Captain Stitt, as soon as he could be heard above the “Haw! haws!” caused by the Honorable Holway's final summing-up of his native town, “I ain't so sure that he was greatly mistook. What do you think, Sol?”

      The depot master shook his head. “Don't know, Bailey,” he answered, dryly. “I'll have to visit both places 'fore I give an opinion. I HAVE been to South Orham, but the neighborhood that your friend Gabe compared it to I ain't seen—yet. I put on that 'yet,'” he added, with a wink, “'cause I knew Sim Phinney would if I didn't.”

      Captain Bailey rose and covered a yawn with a plump hand.

      “I believe I'll go over to Obed's and turn in,” he said. “I'm sleepy as a minister's horse tonight. You don't mind, do you, Obed?”

      “No-o,” replied Mr. Gott, slowly. “No, I don't, 'special. I kind of thought I'd run into the club a few minutes and see some of the other fellers. But it ain't important—not very.”

      The “club” was one of the rooms over Mr. Higgins's store and post office. It had been recently fitted up with chairs and tables from its members' garrets and, when the depot and store were closed, was a favorite gathering place of those reckless ones who cared to “set up late”—that is, until eleven o'clock. Most of the men in town belonged, but many, Captain Berry among them, visited the room but seldom.

      “Checkers,” said the depot master, referring to the “club's” favorite game, “is too deliberately excitin' for me. To watch Beriah Higgins and Ezra Weeks fightin' out a game of checkers is like gettin' your feet froze in January and waitin' for spring to come and thaw 'em out. It's a numbin' kind of dissipation.”

      But Obed Gott was a regular attendant at the “club,” and to-night he had a particular reason for wishing to be there. His cousin noticed his hesitation and made haste to relieve his mind.

      “That's all right, Obed,” he said, “go to the club, by all means. I ain't such a stranger at your house that I can't find my way to bed without help. Good-night, Sim. Good-night, Issy. Cheer up; maybe the Major's glassware IS priceless. So long, Cap'n Sol. See you again some time tomorrer.”

      He and Mr. Gott departed. The depot master rose from his chair.

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