Bellefonte, Pa., October 11, 1929.
A BEAR
If I were a bear,
And a big bear too,
I shoudn’t much care
If it froze or snew,
I shouldn’t much mind
If it snowed or friz—
I'd be all fur-lined
With a coat like this!
For I'd have fur boots
and a brown fur wrap,
And brown fur knickers
and a brown fur cap,
I'd have a fur muffle-ruff
to cover my jaws,
And brown fur mittens
on my brown paws.
With a big brown furry-down
up to my head,
I'd sleep all the winter
in a big fur bed.
—————————
GOOD GRAFT.
About seven o’clock in the evening,
on February fifth, which was elec-:
tion day in Camville, Mr. Roscoe
Critz was sitting in his cane rock-
ing-chair in front of the sheet-iron
stove in his dining room.
On a hard chair at the other side
of the stove Professor Plato Ham-
mond, principal of the Camville Pub-
lic School, who had reached the ven-
erable age of seventy-six, was re-
peating for the thousandth time why
he had not been able to take partin
the Civil War, being then but nine
years old, and Mr. Critz had mo-
mentarily fallen asleep.
His totally bald head fell forward
dnd he had just uttered the first
“G-r-r!” of a snore, when his nephew
Sammy burst into the room.
“Uncle Roscoe! Uncle Roscoe!”
Sammy cried excitedly. “You won!
Your whole ticket was elected!”
Mr. Critz came awake with a jerk.
For a moment he blinked, trying to
remember who, what and where he
was, and then a look of consterna.
tion came upoy his pinkly cherubic
«countenance.
© “My goodness gracious, Samuel!
That's dreadful! Ain't you foolin’
me?” Mr. Critz exclaimed, pulling
at his little white goatee nervously.
Behind Sammy now appeared Mr.
Ira Binzer, whose occupation was
practically nothing but who sang
bass in the choir. He was excited,
too.
“No, sir, by hecky!” he declared.
“You carried the town by a mee-jor-
ity of six votes as slick as a whistle,
Roscoe, and no foolin’ about it. They
just got the ballots all counted and
it’s a landslide—mayor and council
and town clerk all elected.”
“Well, land's sakes,” said Mr. Critz
with irritation. “You don’t have to
be so cheerful about it—it's bad
enough as it is. Plato,” he shouted
at Professor Hammond, “you're elect-
ed mayor!”
“What say?” asked Professor
Hammond, putting a hand behind his
© ear. ‘Whose mare?” «
“You've been elected mayor,”
shouted Mr. Critz. “Mayor! Elect-
ed, I say. Mayor!”
“May Irwin? Yes, I've heard she
was a good actress, too,” said Pro-
fessor Hammond, nodding his had.
«I never saw her, but folks say so.”
“My goodness gracious!” exclaim-
ed Mr. Critz. “He ain’t ever goin’ to
hear anythin’; I'm goin’ to have a
terrible time. Ira, how is Emmy
takin’ it?”
“Grand!” said Mr. Binzer. “Just
grand! The ladies are gettin’ up a
perade right now, and Mis’ Critz is
headin’ of them.”
“Land sakes !” Mr. Critz ejaculat-
ed.
He was undoubtedly greatly per-
turbed by this unexpected electoral
triumph which had made him the
political boss of Camville. For twelve
years Obert Duff, Camville’s only
barber, had been elected mayor al-
most unanimously and there had been
no reason to think he would not con-
tinue to be so elected forever. If Mr.
Critz had thought anything else he
would not have gone into politics.
To be boss of Camville, or any oth-
er place, was the last thing the gen-
tle and plump little man desired, but
his wife, Mrs. Emma Critz had pes-
tered him until he got up an opposi-
tion ticket, hoping it would be deep-
ly snowed under.
Mrs. Emma Critz had succumbed
to the prevailing hair style and had
had her hair bobbed, and her first
» experience in Obert Duff's barber
:shop had aroused her ire. Obert
‘Duff had succeeded his father, Or-
‘lando Duff, as Camville’s barber, and
back in 1888 Orlando Duff had dec-
orated his ceiling with pictures cut
from the Police Gazette. Some of
these were portraits of John L. Sul-
livan but most of them were pic-
tures of chorus ladies of the plump
variety then prevalent. :
© “Jt ‘was all well enough, I dare
say, Roscoe,” Mrs. Critz had said,
“when there was just men lyin’ there | knowin’ about it
in the barber chair and lookin’ up at
all them ladies’ legs, but it’s real em-
barrassin’ when a lady has to go
there to get a hair cut or a facial
massidge. And he wun’t scrape them
off. He was real sassy when I ask-
ed him to.” i
“TI don’t see whut I can do about,
it, Emmy,” Mr. Critz said.
“You can get an ord’nance passed
forbiddin’ ladies’ legs on barber-shop
ceilin’s, I should think.”
“Now, Emmy, not whilst Obe Duff
is mayor and’s got the city council
with him,” Mr. Critz told her.
“Well and indeed!” exclaimed Mrs.
Critz. “Then it’s about time you wake
up and elected a new mayor, Roscoe
Critz, and I wun’t give you a mite
of peace till you do.”
Nor did she, and Mr. Critz, for the
sake of the peace he loved so well,
went through the motions of bring-
ing forward a Reform Party ticket.
He was going to make the campaign
on the slogan, “No legs on barber-
shop ceilings,” but Mrs. Critz objected
that that slogan would alienate
the entire male vote, and said the
anti-leg effort should be a whisper-
ing campaign among the ladies of
Camville and that Professor . Plato
Hammond—who had told Mr. Critz
he was willing to be defeated for
for the office of mayor—should run
on the platform of “A Bigger and
Better Camville.”
And now not only was Professor
Plato Hammond elected but the three found
aldermen and the city clerk had gone
in with him. By this unexpected and
undesired success Mr. Critz had be-
come the :
was now his duty to make Camville
“pigger” and “better” as promised.
The interest of Mr. Ira Binzer in
all this was because Mr. Critz had
boss of Camville and it .
and Willie Lunk
play
to with,
i robbed the baby.
In the hand bag Willie Lunk had
ents, a
7. Se a
for prune whip, but the mother had
come from the store in time to see
Willie making off with the hand bag
and that was why he was now in
No one was hunting for him
bottle, t
‘but he imagined that all the police
promised him the appointment to the |
position of chief of police if the
ticket won, and a few evenings later
when the three new councilmen, the
new mayor and Mr. Critz met in the
dining room to consider a program,
Mr. Binzer was present. :
Now that he had been elected may-
or Professor Hammond had assume
an air of dignity and had had his
long beard trimmed, but even so he
was not much help. As he heard
practically nothing that was said, he
confined himself to placing the tips
of the fingers of his two hands to-
gether, looking gravely at the ceil-
ing, and repeating, “Most reasonable!
Most reasonable!” whenever he was
appealed to. It was evident that as
a mayor Professor Hammond was
going to be a total loss, and it made
Mr. Critz perspire to discover that
he was not only to be boss but may-
or as well.
“My goodness gracious !” Mr. Critz
exclaimed when the talk had gone
on for half an hour and nothing had
been accomplished. “We ain't gettin’
nowheres. Gentlemen, we told these
folks we’d give them a bigger and
better Camville, and seems as if we
ought to do it, but I declare I don
know how we're to go about it.”
“What we're up against, it looks
like,” said Mr. Binzer, who had a
face like a horse, “is a proposition.
That's what I say it looks like. I
may be wrong but that’s what I say.”
For a moment Mr. Critz became
red in the face.
“Proposition!” he cried. “If you
can't say nothin’ better’'n that, you
might as well say nothin’ at all. My
gracious!
the town's lookin’ to us to do some-
thin’ and there ain't no way to do
it, far as I can see, and all you got
to say to it is ‘proposition.’ ”
“Uncle Roscoe!” called a boy's
voice from the next room.
“Yes, Sammy; whut is it?” asked
Mr. Critz patiently.
“Why, now, Uncle Roscoe,” said
Sammy, appearing in the doorway.
“Now Willie Lunk and me, we were
talking about how you said you were
going to make Camville bigger and
better, and Willie Lunk he has been
in Chicago and New York and every-
where, and he says the trouble with
Hs town is there ain’t any graft in
“I don’t know whut you mean,
Sammy,” said Mr. Critz. “We're
busy about politics, Sammy, and you
hadn't ought to interrupt us.”
“Yes, I know, Uncle Roscoe,” Sam-
my said, “but that’s what I mean.
Willie, he says you can’t expect this
town to be bigger and better like
New York and all those places, be-
cause the first thing those places do
is to get graft in the government,
because that’s how to get things done,
Uncle Roscoe. Willie says that’s al-
most all you read about in the city
papers—how the grafters are doing
things and buying parks and making
sewers and everything to make the
place bigger and better, and—"
“Well, my goodness gracious, Sam-
my,” Mr. Critz said, wiping his spec-
tacles, “I guess I know that as well
as Willie Lunk knows it. I'm able to
read the newspapers as well as the
next person, I should think. Trouble
is, I ain’t had no experience in that
sort of thing and I don’t know just
how to go about it.”
Ira Binzer got up and opened the
stove door to spit into the fire. He
slammed the stove door. Pied
“From what I read in the papers
a police force ain’t much account,
seems as if, if it ain’t all permegat-
ed with corruption and one thing and
another. I'm willin’ to be permegat-
ed that way if you say so, Roscoe.
We got to do the best we can for the
town, all of us.” :
“Most reasonable! Most reason-
able!” said Mayor Hammond, tap-
ping his finger tips together.
“Sammy most generally talks sense,
Roscoe,” came from Mrs. Critz in
the next room. :
“Well, I got myself into this job
of boss of politics,” Mr. Critz said,
“and I am to do the best I can at
it. I sort of hate to rob folks the
way these grafters have to do.”
“Oh, pshaw, Uncle Roscoe!” Sam-
my said. “You don’t rob nobody but
the taxpayers, and Willie Lunk says
they never care. They expect it,
Uncle Roscoe. They like it, Willie
sa Ln
“Well, IT guess maybe they do, the
way they put up with it,” agreed Mr.
Critz placidly. “I guess maybe, men,
we'll have to start in graftin’ and see
whut we can do that way for a big-
ger and better Camville. I'll do the
best I can at it and I guess maybe
Willie Lunk can help us out some,
like he does. You
councilmen has got to come in on it
the same as me and Plato and Ira.”
“Yes, if you say so, Roscoe,” said
Mr. Wulk, whose sudden elevation
from odd jobs and cordwood sawing
seemed to have stunned him, and the
other two councilmen, Mr. Tever-
sham and Mr. Gollick, agreed.
“All right, fellows,” said Mr. Critz.
“I guess Emmy has some cider and
cookies she’s waitin’ to pass round,
and afore we meet next I'll try to
think up some sort of graftin’ to
start things agoin’. If you see Willie
Lunk tomorrow, Sammy, you might
ask him to sort of drop round and
talk things over.”
Willie Lunk, whose knowledge of
graft had so impressed Sammy Critz,
was not a citizen of Camville. He
was temporarily making his home in
the cheapest room at the Camville
Hotel, and he had never been in Chi-
cago or New York. He was not
much of a crook but he liked to
think he was a hard-boiled tough of
the deadliest character.
As a matter of fact Willie Lunk
was the misguided son of a wealthy
widowed mother in Riverbank, Iowa,
and he had begun his career of crime
in Davenport. Here he had seen a
mother leave her baby outside a
store in a baby carriage, and she
had left her hand bag for the baby
d Take it from me, that
Here we elected Plato and |
‘nothin’
forces of America were on his trail.
Willie’s devilishness consisted in
pulling his cap over one eye, letting
a cigaret listlessly from his
lip and spitting tarough his teeth.
With this he sported and attitude of
'world-weary cynicism which he ex-
pressed by saying of everyone whose
name was mentioned, “Aw, rats, bo!
guy’s nothin’
but a dirty crook.”
“Well, now, Mr. Lunk,” Mr. Critz
said when Willie came to the house,
“I guess Sammy told you what I
wanted to see you about; we've got
to get started at this graftin’ busi-
ness before the folks begin to get im-
patient over nothin’ bein’ done, seems
as though, and me and Ira Binzer
thought maybe you could help us
some.”
“Yeah? Is that so!” said Willie
Lunk sarcastically. “Well, I'll tell
you about that Binzer guy; you
take it from me, that guy’s nothin’
but a dirty crook. See?”
“You don’t say!” said Mr. Critz.
“I'm real glad to hear you say so,
knowin’ about such things like you
do. I guess maybe if he is we can
do some first-class graftin’ when we
get goin’ right. Now—"
“Roscoe Critz,” came the voice of
Mrs. Critz from the next room, “don’t
you go and forget them chorus-girl
legs on Obert Duff’s ceilin’ with all
your graftin’ ana stuff.”
“No, I wun't, Emmy,” said Mr.
Critz.
“Say! What about them chorus-
girl legs?” asked Willie. ‘What's
the dame peepin’ about? What's
that celin’ to her?”
It’s sort of why I come to be the
Boss Tweed of this town,” Mr. Critz
explained. “Emmy, she’s sort of dis-
gusted with that ceilin’ of Obe’s,
and that’s why we threw Obe out of
the mayor’s chair. But I reckon we
ain’t goin’ to have much trouble,
about that ceilin’, Willie. Soon as
town council meets I aim to pass an
ord’'nance forbiddin’ legs on ceilin’s.”
“Yeah? Well, you take it from
me,” said Willie, “them councilmen
ain't nothin’ but a bunch o dirty
crooks.”
“I hope they be,” said Mr. Critz,
“but to get down to this graftin’
business——"'
“What’s the matter with the ceil-
in’?” asked Willie Lunk.
“Hey ?” queried Mr. Critz. “The
ceilin’ ?” i
“The ceilin’,” repeated Willie. “Lis-
ten, bo! if you're goin’ to graft
you've got to graft, haven't you? |
Aw, wake up! Go on and tell Obe
Diuff you're goin’ to pass an ordi-!
nance to chase them pictures off his
ceilin’, see? What's he? He ain't:
but a dirty crook. Tell him
you're goin‘ to put through an ordi-
nance, and then I go around to him
an pn
Willie rubbed his thumb against
his forefinger in the sign that means
“Money! Come across!” :
“I say, ‘Come across, and old Critz
will forget it,” Willie explained.
“There's your graft if you ain’t just
talkin’ through your hat. Leave him
have his legs on his ceilin’ if he
comes across right, see?” !
“Roscoe!” came the voice of Mrs. |
Critz from the next room. “Roscoe
Critz, you wun’t do nothin’ of the |
kind! Them legs has got to come '
down.” |
“Now, Emmy,” said Mr. Critz
Pleagingiy: “don’t you interfere in
Ss.”
- “I will, too, interfere,” said Mrs.
Critz, coming to the door with her
sewing in her hand. She was a large |
plump woman and she quite filled
the doorway, and her usually placid
face showed her disapprobation. “Ros-
coe,” she said, “us women elected
Plato Hammond to get them pictures
off Obe Duff’s ceilin’, and off they've
got to come! That's my word, and
it’s’ a word with the bark on it.” -
“Now, Emmy,” said Mr, Critz pa-
tiently, “whut we promised when
election was goin’ on is one ;
and whut we have to do to get this
graftin’ business under way uite
another. Folks has got to BY up
with is when election
is over. illie has give us a real
good idea and it’s the only one we've
got so far, so I guess we'll go right
ahead with it. Folks has got to put
up with one thing and another if they
want to have crooks in gov’ment of-
fices. I guess, Emmy, you and the
ladies can keep you're eyes shut when
you go to get your hair trimmed off.”
“Well, ofall things,” exclaimed
Mrs. Critz. “I'm goin’ to go and get
Mrs. Keech and go down and tell
Obert Duff this very minute!”
Mr. Critz waited until he heard the
front door slam, and then he heaved
a sigh. : Bt
“That's how politics is,” he said
sadly; “bustin’ families wide apart.
Now we got Emmy against us. How-
soever, a man’s got to do his duty;
women don’t seem to understand
these things.”
“Say, listen!” said Willie from the
depths of his cynicism. “Women,
they're nothin’ but a bunch of dumb-
bells; you got to treat ’em rough,
see?”
“Well, I don’t know as Emmy is
as dumb as some,” Mr. Critz said,
he was not a little worried.
“Aw, forget it!” said Willie Lunk.
“You give me a pain! What I want
to know is what I get out of this.”
“The’ ain't so many offices to hand
out, Willie,” Mr. Critz told him. “I
was talkin’ to Ira Binzer and he
thought maybe he could put you on-
to the police force—dog police or
somethin’—but seems as if law re-
quires a policeman has got to be a
citizen of the town. I sort of figure
the best job would be to make you
watchman to the fire house. It don’t
pay much but when we get to graft-
in’ in good shape your share ought
to be right considerable.”
The fire house of Rescue Volunteer
Hose Company No. 1 (and only) was
a two-story building and in front of
it hung an old locomotive drivewheel
tire and gn sledge hammer for scund-
ing fire alarms. The fire house was
heated, and was used by the mem-
, coe.
company as a place in
which to: i
door at the side opened on the stairs
t nursing that led to the. second story, which"
and a recipe was used as a town hall. Here was
one room used as a council room; and
three other smaller rooms, one for
the town clerk, one for the chief of
police.
As Mr. Critz explained to Willie,
the duties of the watchman were
neither arduous nor difficult. He
could have a bed in the fire house,
need sweep out only once or twicea
week, must keep up the fires and, un-
less someone beat him to it, clang
the fire alarm when a fire broke out.
As Mr. Critz, as boss of Camville,
meant to make his headquarters in
the mayor's office, it would be handy
to have Willie, as advisory grafter,
right in the building, particularly as
Mrs. Critz now threatened to be an-
tagohistic.
When Friday came the Camville
Weekly Eagle gave the result of the
election the headline display desery-
ed by such an event, and the leading
editorial of Editor G. W. Jones bore
the title, “A Bigger and Better Cam-
ville.”
“The election of Professor Plato
Hammond as mayor carries with it,
ye Editor understands, a circum-
stance of much greater importance to
our little city. We hear that Mr.
Roscoe Critz, having managed the
campaign for a Bigger and Better
Camville, becomes the political boss
ofour town and has already begun
work in that important position. Mr.
Critz promises to drag Camville out
of our town and has already begun
long floundered, and to introduce here
the same up-to-date grafting meth-
ods that have made New York, Phil-
adelphia and Chicago huge and pros-
perous.
“We have it on good authority that
Mayor Hammond and the three new-
ly elected members of the council are
thoroughly in sympathy with Mr.
Critz in this praiseworthy effort, and
that Chief of Police Ira Binzer will
do his share by assuring us a corrupt
police force. Mr. William Lunk has
been appointed watchman of the fire
house and graft adviser to the new
administration. Mr. Lunk is known
in metropolitan underworld circles as
Willie the Rat.”
On an inside page was a brief
item to the effect that an ordinance
would be adopted at the next council
meeting prohibiting the exhibition of
chorus-girl and other female legs on
barber-shop ceilings under penalty of
five hundred dollars fine, sixty days
in jail, or both.
“Thus already,” added the Eagle,
“we find Boss Critz and his hench-
men busy in the interest of a Big-
ger and Better Camville.”
All day Saturday Mr. Critz sat in
his cane rocker in the mayors’ office
over the fire house waiting for Obert
Duff to come and ask for terms, but
Mr. Duff did not come, and about
five o'clock Mr. Critz walked across
the hall to the office of Chief of Po-
lice Binzer.
“Ira,” he said “I don’t know whut’s
the matter with Obert Duff. It don’t
seem likely he's as dumb as it looks
like.”
“What's the matter, Roscoe? Ain't
he been up to talk graft yet?”
“He ain’t been nigh me,” Mr. Critz
said. “Land knows that piece George
Wash’n’ton Jones had in the paper
ought to be plain enough of a hint
to him.”
“Well, Satid'y is sort of a bad day
for him, Roscoe,” Mr. Binzer suggest-
ed. “Busiest day Obert’s got, every-
body gettin’ shaved for Sunday.”
“Ddn’t look right, somehow, Ira,”
Mr. Critz said. “Wouldn't doubt a
mite that Emmy and that Keech wo-
man has gone and put him up to
somethin’. I guess maybe you'd bet-
ter go down and tell Obert whut’s
whut.”
“How much graft do you figure
we’d ought to ask him to have that
| ord'nance sidetracked?” Mr. Binzer ,
asked.
“There's ten of us ought toget a
share out of it, countin’ Willie Lunk,”
Mr. Critz said, pulling at his goatee.
“A dollar apiece ain't a mite too
much, the way I look at it. You tell
. Ober right out clear and plain he’s |
got ~ to hand over ten dollars if he
wants to keep them pink papers on
his ceilin’.”
Mr. Binzer hesitated. “I sort of
feel like we hadn't ought to splurge
out too heavy right at the start,” he
said. “Dollar is a lot of money, Ros-
5 Seems like fifty cents would be
sort of more reasonable till we get
folks used to it.”
«I don’t know but whut that’s good
sense,” Mr. Critz agreed, “but you
tell Obert I ain’t goin’ to put up with
no nonsense; he's got to graft us five
dollars or peel off them pictures, or
take the consequences when council
meets.”
Mr. Binzer departed on his errand
but in half an hour he was back, and
he did not look any too well pleased.
Mr. Duff received him with anything
but cordiality. He had stated flatly
that he was not going to pay any
graft whatever. i
“He wun’t, wun’'t he?” snapped
Mr. Critz. “That's how he talks, is
it? You go on back and tell him
the price has gone up to ten dollars,
Ira Binzer! Amd if I've gotto wait
til Monday it’s goin’ to be twenty.
I ain’t goin’ to be trifled with, I tell
you whut !”
“Well, now, maybe ’tain’t as sim-
ple as all that,” said the chief of po-
lice. “Seems like there's a nigger in-
to the woodpile.”
“Nigger?” inquired Mr. Critz.
“Aunt Emmy,” explained Mr. Binz-
er. “She's been down there. She
told him not to give no graft to no-
pody. ‘Don’t you do it,’ she said to
him. ‘Things has come to a nice
pass if folks has to give graft to
Roscoe Critz when his own lawful
wife is against it’ That's what she
told him, boss.”
«My gracious!” exclaimed Mr.
Critz. “Well, for land's sake! A
man can’t understand a woman no-
how. They don’t know their minds
one minute after another. First
nothin’ would do but I elect Obert
out of office to get them legs off his
ceilin’, and now she's goin’ to leave
them on it just to upset plans I
went and made. Whut else did she
oh
“She said you was a well-meanin’
old codger, or words to that effect,
but that electin’ ~n old fossil like
Plato Hammond had gone to your
play pinochle:and poker. A-=
‘cut off a piece of his ear while cut-
, durned if he would.’ ’
: stop
|
head and made you think- you
amounted: to more than you was,”
Mr. Binzer told him. “She said, if
it came right dewn to it, it was the
female vote ‘1 ‘Obert, and she
did not expect to live to see the day
when the ladies of Camville couldn’t
handle you like a hen handles a
worm. :
“She told Obert that her and Mrs.
Keech and the Ladies’ Garden and
Poetry Club was takin’ a firm stand
against graft and corruption in any
and all forms, and would stand back
of him if he’d fight you.”
“Whut did he say to that?”
“He said he'd fight you,” said Mr.
Binzer, and Mr. Critz was silent.
He had no false ideas regarding
his wife's influence with the ladies
of Camville. On the other hand he
was of the opinion that women had
no business meddling in politics—af-
ter election was over. He went over
his forces in his mind. ’
Of Mr. Binzer and Mayor Ham-
mond he had no doubt. The city
council consisted of six members, and
three had been elected on his ticket.
Mr. Wulk, the odd-jobs man, Mr.
Critz was sure of. Mr. Teversham
ran the cigar store and no ladies of
Camville yet smoked cigarets, which
should make the female influence
negligible with him. Mr. Gollick,
whose profession was whitewashing
and paper-hanging, was the only
doubtful man, and Mr. Critz resolved
to make sure of him beyond any
doubt. Of the three holdover mem-
bers of the council Mr. Critz believ-
ed he could count on the vote of Mr.
Vidder because Obert Duff had once
ting his hair and Mr. Vidder had
never forgiven Mr. Duff for that.
But even without the vote of Mr.
Vidder, if Mr. Golick remained faith-
ful, the ordinance prohibiting unclad
chorus ladies’ limbs on barber-shop
ceilings could be carried, for in case
of a three-to-three vote the mayor
cast the deciding vote.
“Whut did Obe say about scrapin’
off them pictures?” Mr. Critz asked.
“I asked him that, too,” Mr. Bin-
zer replied, “and he said he'd be
“Well, we’d better go home and
get our food,” Mr. Critz said. “You
in and tell Obert the price of
graft has gone up to ten dollars. 1
don't hardly know whut to make of
we
At home neither Mr. nor Mrs. Critz
said anything about the matter, but
Mrs. Critz kept her lips firmly set.
Mr. Critz wondered if she had not be-
come an anti-graft and anti-pink-
fanatic, willing to deceive Obert Duff
into thinking she was more powerful
than she was, thus lulling him into
inaction until the ordinance was
passed, and thus at one blow defeat-
ing her husband's graft and making
sure of the removal of the pictures
from Obert Duff’s ceiling. 1
An annoying thought came to Mr.
Critz as he ate his pie that Mr. Gol-
lick might be the key to the situa-
tion in some way not. clear. Mr.
Gollick was a paper-hanger and his
would be the job of scraping the bar-
ber-shcp ceiling and putting new pa-
per on it if it came to that, but Mr.
Critz could not see how an enlighten-
ed self-interest would lead Mr. Gol-
lick to do anything but vote for the
ordinance and get the job, or forgo
the job and take the graft money.
He decided to see Mr. Gollick that
evening.
As Mr. Critz got up from the table
someone knocked on the kitchen door.
Mrs. Critz got hastily out of her
chair.
“ 'Tain’t for you—I'll go,” she said,
and a moment later Mr. Critz heard
the fresh young voice of Essie Keech.
“It’s all right, Aunt Emmy,” the
daughter of Mrs. Critz’ right-hand
woman said.
“My goodness, hush!” exclaimed
Mrs. Critz. “Roscoe is in there, lis-
tenin’.”
“Come in, Essie; let a person have
a look at you,” Mr. Critz called, and
when she came to the door he beam-
ed upon her. “My! My!” he exclaim-
ed. “If you ain't gettin’ better-look-
in’ every day that goes by! Whut
wags it you was sayin’ was all right,
Essie?”
In what he said about Essie grow-
ing prettier Mr. Critz was right.
Simple and sweet, Essie Keech would
have been a find for any motion-pic-
tur producer.
“Oh, I couldn’t tell you what I was
talking about, Uncle Roscoe!” she
said. “Mother wouldn't like me to.
108 politics, Uncle Roscoe.” | longer any sense in
“Well, if it’s politics you might
as well speak right out,” said Mr.
Critz. “I'm the political boss of this
town and the sooner folks knows it
the better it'll be for ‘em. It’s goin’
to be a pretty serious thing for folks
to get the town-hall ring down on
‘em, I can tell you! We ain't goin’
to have no pity for them that op-
poses us, and you can tell your ma
keep back no secrets, Essie; we've
got underhand methods to find out
everythin’.”
“Don’t you tell him a word!”
snapped Mrs. Critz. “Find out ev-
erything! Why, Roscoe Critz, you
can’t even find a clean undershirt un-
less I come and put it right in your
hand, not if it’s right under your
nose, and you know it!”
“Things get so mixed up in my
bureau drawers, seems as if,” said
Mr. Critz mildly ,and he went forth
to converse with Arthur Gollick and
to brace him up if he seemed to be
weakening.
On the way he stopped to get Chief
of Police Binzer and found him in
the fire house. \ .
“li go 'long with you in a couple
of minutes, soon as e Lunk gets
back,” Mr. Binzer said. ‘He just run
over to the drug store to buy him one
of them pound boxes of Dainty Lady
nut chocolate candies, twelve varie-
ties into each box, special sale mark-
ed down to eighty-five cents for this
week only.”
“«Whut's he buyin’ chocolates for?”
asked Mr. Critz suspiciously. “Whut
did he say about it?”
“I guess maybe he’s got his eye on
some girl,” said Mr. Binzer, “but he
didn’t say much. All he said was
that in his opinion Druggist Colson
was a dirty crook but eighty-five
cents was cheap for them Dainty
Lady nut chocolates, twelve varieties
in—" .
“Never mind about that now,” said
Mr. Critz. “You said it once already,” |
“It’s fixed, and—" i
so. It don’t do mo good for you to
_isfied, if you ain’t.
and as -Willie- Lunk :- now appeared,
the boss grafter and the promoter of
a corrupt police force went to see Mr.
Gollick.
“Mr. Gollick was not a little sur=
prised by the visit. He assured Mr.
Critz that he had not swayed an inch
from the crooked path and that he
hades no thought of doing anything ex-
cept vote exactly as Mr. Critz order-
ed when the council had its first
meeting on Monday eve ,
With Mr. Binzer, Mr. tz pro-
ceeded to visit Councilmen Wulk and
Seversham. They found them equal-
y staun or graft and a Bigger and
Better Camville. In addition, one of
the holdover aldermen told Mr. Critz
he was to be counted on as a recruit
to the graft ring, and Mr. Critz would
have been well pleased, if he had not
found his wife, when he reached
home, seemingly ually satisfied
with the outlook. on.
Sunday passed uneventfully but on
Monday Mr. Critz felt a tingle of
menace in the air. Mrs. Critz hum-
med as she worked, and was too
cheerful -to please Mr. Critz, and
when he visited Obert Duff’s shop he
found Obert stretched out in his bar-
ber chair snoring placidly.
A final check-up in the afternoon
showed that the four aldermen—out
of the total of six—were still true to
the graftring, and Plato Hammond
could always be depended upon.
At dinner Mr. Critz asked Mrs.
Critz if she meant to attend the
council meeting but she said she
wouldn't.
“I dare say there’ll be enough folks
at council meetin’ without me,” she
told him.
“We got it all tied up,” Mr. Critz
informed her. “Wun’t be nothin’ to:
it but jammin’ the ord’nance through
if Obert Duff don’t come across with
the graft money. I guess we got
you beat, Emmy.”
“Well, it’s a good thing to know
when it’s no use fightin’. Things most
ly turns out one way or another, no
matter whut folks does. If I'm
asleep when you come in wake me up
and let me know how it come out,”
said Mrs. Critz, and Mr. Critz said he
would do so.
The council room had never held
such a crowd as was jammed into it
when Mr. Critz arrived there. Obert
Duff had come early and had secured
a good seat far up front. Mr. Binzer,
his new star gleaming on his coat,
met Mr. Critz.
“He ain't come across, Roscoe,” he
said. “I been goin’ up to him every
minute or two but he don’t shell out.
And I guess youll have to set along-
side of Plato and sort of run things.”
Mr. Critz advised Mr. Binzer to
stand around where Mr. Duff could
see hira in case he decided to come
across with the graft money at the
last minute, when he saw that the
ring meant business.
The meeting began stormily with
cheers and hisses as Mr. Critz took
a chair beside Mayor Hammond, and
by the time Mr. Critz asked, “Mr.
Town Clerk, is there any ord’nances
to take up?” the confusion was most
annoying.
“Hammer on the table with that
mallet,” Mr. Critz shouted in Plato's
ear, and when Mayor Hammond said
i ¢“Hev?” Mr. Critz himself took the
gavel and beat upon the table vio.
lently.
“Folks,” he said in the moment o:
silence, “we got an ord’nance here re.
gardin’ pictures on barber-shop ceil
in’s—"But before he could say mor«
his nephew Sammy came squirming
through the crowd to the table.
“Uncle Roscoe! Uncle Roscoe!” ht
cried in great excitement. “Aun
Emma and a lot of ladies have go
out the fire pump and they're pump
ing the attic over Obert Duff's bar
ber shop full of water.”
“My goodness gracious!” exclaim
ed Mr. Critz. “Is that whut then
women is up to? Folks,
meetin’ is adjourned.
Obert, the ladies is wreckin’ you
shop.”
Nothing more he said was hearc
being lost as the crowd emptied it
self into the street. They found Mr:
Critz, Mrs. Keech and a dozen othe
ladies of the Camville Garden an
Poetry Club working the handles ©
the pump, while Essie Keech an
Willie Lunk, on the roof of the she
back of the barber shop, poured
stream of water into the attic.
When Obert Duff unlocked the bar
ber shop he found that not only th
offending pink pictures but the cei
ing itself had fallen. There'was n
passing an ol
counei
' dinance; the first graft scheme of M.
Critz was ruined.
“For the land's sake, Emmy!” M
Critz said when he was at hom
ain. “Town’ll have to pay for
new ceilin’ for Obert, seein’ Willie :
a town employee and went and too
the fire pump out. It’s goin’ to cos
the town thirty or forty dollar
Tha’s no way to do.”
“Well, Roscoe, we got them legs o
that ceilin’ and we put a stop to you
graftin’ off of Obert D ,” said Mr
Critz, “and I guess us ladies is sa
I dare say ti
Camville Garden and Poetry Chu
can give an oyster supper and rai
enough to buy Obert Duff a new cei
in’, even if whut we had to pay Wi
lie Lunk did about empty our trea
ury.”
Mr. Critz looked at Mrs. Cri
sharply. “Whut say?” he demande
“Whut did you pay Wilie Lunk?”
“Well, Roscoe,” said Mrs. Crit
“we sent Essie Keech around to so
of get on the good side of him, at
when she had him buyin’ candy f
her, we had her give him ten dolla
to let us take out the fire pump.”
“My goodness!” exclaimed M
Critz. “Just think of that! Why,!
ain’t nothin’ but a dirty crook!”
There was a knock on the door, a
willie the Rat entered. His cap w
pulled over one eye and a cigar
hung from his lower lip. He turn
his head toward the stove and sp
through his teeth, at the same tir
tossing a small roll of one-dollar bi
to Mr. Critz.
“Say, boss, there's your graft,”
said. “If it wasn't for me Yy
wouldn't get nowhere, see? I sho
‘em down. see? But, say, you list
to me! You look out’ for the dame
see? They ain't nothin’ but a lot
crooks!”
Mr. Critz counted the money &
put ‘it in his vest pocket. Mrs. Cr.
(Continued on page 8, Col. 4.)