“The billiard room gang wa'n't the best folks in town, I'll own right up to that. Still, they wa'n't so turrible wicked. Jotham never sold rum, and he'd never allow no rows in his place. But, just the same, his saloon was reckoned a bad influence. Young men hadn't ought to go there—most of us said that. If there was a nicer place TO go, argues the minister, 'twould help the moral tone of the community consider'ble. 'Why not,' says he to Stingy Gabe, 'start a free club for men that'll make the billiard room look like the tail boat in a race?' And says Gabe: 'Bully! I'll do it.'”
Captain Stitt paused long enough to enjoy a chuckle all by himself. Before he had quite finished his laugh, slow and reluctant steps were heard on the back platform and Issy appeared on the threshold. He was without the package, but did not look happy.
“Well, Is,” inquired the depot master, “did you give the remains to the Major?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Issy.
“Did you tell him how the shockin' fatality happened? How the thing got broken?”
“Yes, sir, I told him.”
“What did he say? Didn't let his angry passions rise, did he?”
“No-o; no, sir, he didn't rise nothin'. He didn't get mad neither. But you could see he felt pretty bad. Talked about 'old family glass' and 'priceless airloons' or some such. Said much as he regretted to, he should feel it no more'n justice to have somebody pay damages.”
“Humph!” Captain Sol looked very grave. “Issy, I can see your finish. You'll have to pay for somethin' that's priceless, and how are you goin' to do that? 'Old family glass,' hey? Hum! And I thought I saw the label of a Boston store on that package.”
Obed Gott leaned forward eagerly.
“Is that Major Hardee you're talkin' about?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. He's the only Major we've got. Cap'ns are plenty as June bugs, but Majors and Gen'rals are scarce. Why?”
“Oh, nothin'. Only—” Mr. Gott muttered the remainder of the sentence under his breath. However, the depot master heard it and his eye twinkled.
“You're glad of it!” he exclaimed. “Why, Obed! Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee! I'm surprised. Better not let the women folks hear you say that.”
“Look here!” cried Captain Stitt, rather tartly, “am I goin' to finish that yarn of mine or don't you want to hear it?”
“BEG your pardon, Bailey. Go on. The last thing you said was what Stingy Gabe said, and that was—”
CHAPTER III
“STINGY GABE”
“And that,” said Captain Bailey, mollified by the renewed interest of his listeners, “was, 'Bully! I'll do it!'
“So he calls a meetin' of everybody interested, at his new house. About every respectable man in town was there, includin' me. Most of the billiard-room gang was there, likewise. Jotham, of course, wa'n't invited.
“Gabe calls the meetin' to order and the minister makes a speech tellin' about the scheme. 'Our generous and public-spirited citizen, Honorable Atkinson Holway,' had offered to build a suitable clubhouse, fix it up, and donate it to the club, them and their heirs forever, Amen. 'Twas to belong to the members to do what they pleased with—no strings tied to it at all. Dues would be merely nominal, a dollar a year or some such matter. Now, who favored such a club as that?
“Well, 'most everybody did. Daniel Bassett, chronic politician, justice of the peace, and head of the 'Conservatives' at town meetin', he made a talk, and in comes him and his crew. Gaius Ellis, another chronic, who is postmaster and skipper of the 'Progressives,' had been fidgetin' in his seat, and now up he bobs and says he's for it; then every 'Progressive' jines immediate. But the billiard-roomers; they didn't jine. They looked sort of sheepish, and set still. When Mr. Fisher begun to hint p'inted in their direction, they got up and slid outdoor. And right then I'd ought to have smelt trouble, but I didn't; had a cold in my head, I guess likely.
“Next thing was to build the new clubhouse, and Gabe went at it hammer and tongs. He had a big passel of carpenters down from the city, and inside of three months the buildin' was up, and she was a daisy, now I tell you. There was a readin' room and a meetin' room and an 'amusement room.' The amusements was crokinole and parchesi and checkers and the like of that. Also there was a gymnasium and a place where you could play the pianner and sing—till the sufferin' got acute and somebody come along and abated you.
“When I fust went inside that clubhouse I see 'twas bound to be 'Good-by, Bill,' for Jotham. His customers would shake his ratty old shanty for sartin, soon's they see them elegant new rooms. I swan, if I didn't feel sorry for the old reprobate, and, thinks I, I'll drop around and sympathize a little. Sympathy don't cost nothin', and Jotham's pretty good company.
“I found him settin' alongside the peanut roaster, watchin' a couple of patients cruelize the pool table.
“'Hello, Bailey!' says he. 'You surprise me. Ain't you 'fraid of catchin' somethin' in this ha'nt of sin? Have a chair, anyhow. And a cigar, won't you?'
“I took the chair, but I steered off from the cigar, havin' had experience. Told him I guessed I'd use my pipe. He chuckled.
“'Fur be it from me to find fault with your judgment,' he says. 'Terbacker does smoke better'n anything else, don't it.'
“We set there and puffed for five minutes or so. Then he sort of jumped.
“'What's up?' says I.
“'Oh, nothin'!' he says. 'Bije Simmons got a ball in the pocket, that's all. Don't do that too often, Bije; I got a weak heart. Well, Bailey,' he adds, turnin' to me, 'Gabe's club's fixed up pretty fine, ain't it?'
“'Why, yes,' I says; ''tis.'
“'Finest ever I see,' says he. 'I told him so when I was in there.'
“'What?' says I. 'You don't mean to say YOU'VE been in that clubroom?'
“'Sartin. Why not? I want to take in all the shows there is—'specially the free ones. Make a good billiard room, that clubhouse would.'
“I whistled. 'Whew!' says I. 'Didn't tell Gabe THAT, did you?'
“He nodded. 'Yup,' says he. 'I told him.'
“I whistled again. 'What answer did he make?' I asked.
“'Oh, he wa'n't enthusiastic. Seemed to cal'late I'd better shut up my head and my shop along with it, afore he knocked off one and his club knocked out t'other.'
“I pitied the old rascal; I couldn't help it.
“'Jotham,' says I, 'I ain't the wust friend you've got in South Orham, even if I don't play pool much. If I was you I'd clear out of here and start somewheres else. You can't fight all the best folks in town.'
“He didn't make no answer. Just kept on a-puffin'. I got up to go. Then he laid his hand on my sleeve.
“'Bailey,' says he, 'when Betsy Mayo was ailin', her sister's tribe was all for the Faith Cure and her husband's relations was high for patent medicine. When the Faith