o the motion, Mr. Moore, making it a fifty-dollar
fine for any taxpayer, or tenant, who puts rubbish out on the curb on
any other day save the two mentioned in the main ordinance," Janice
whispered to the selectman; "otherwise you will set a bad precedent with
your Clean-Up Day, instead of doing lasting good."

"Now, ain't that gal got brains?" Moore wanted to know of Walky Dexter.
"Huh! Mary Ann can't tell me that the Widder Petrie started this idea.
It was that Day gal, as sure as aigs is aigs!" and Walky nodded a solemn
agreement.

There was more to it, however, than the giving notice to the people of
Poketown that they had a chance to get rid of the collection of rubbish
every family finds in cellar, shed, and yard in the spring. People in
general had to be stirred up about it. Clean-Up Day was so far ahead
that the apostles of neatness and order--those who were thoroughly
imbued with the spirit of the thing and realized Poketown's need--had
time to preach to most of the delinquents.

There were cards printed, too, announcing the date of Clean-Up Day and
its purposes, and these were hung in every store and other public place.
Janice urged the young people's society of the church into the work of
getting the storekeepers to promise to clean up back rooms, cellars,
sheds, and the awful yards behind their ancient shops.

There were a few--like Mr. Bill Jones--who at first refused to fall in
with the plans of those who had at heart the welfare of the old town.
Mr. Jones had been particularly "sore" ever since he had been ousted
from the school committee the year before. Now he declared he wouldn't
"be driv" by no "passel of wimmen" into changing the order of affairs in
the gloomy old store where he had made a good living for so many years.

But Bill Jones reckoned without the new spirit that was gradually taking
hold upon Poketown people. One of his ungracious statements, when his
store was well filled with customers, brought about the retort pointed
from none less that Mrs. Marvin Petrie herself.

"Well, Bill Jones," declared that plain-spoken old lady, "we wimmen have
made up our minds to clean out the flies, an' all other dirt, if we can.
Poketown is unsanitary--so Dr. Poole says--and we know it's always been
slovenly. There ain't a place, I'll be bound, in the whole town, that
needs cleaning up more'n this, your store!"

"I ain't no dirtier than anybody else!" roared Jones, very red-faced.

"But you aim to b