e followers, and several thousand
assorted snorts of defiance.

That's when the storm breaks--and it's a whole lot bigger than a man's
hand by that time. Delia is a mighty plentiful woman physically, and
when she gets her war paint on, she's a regular cloudburst. As I say,
about three o'clock or thereabouts, we suddenly wake up to the fact that
we have a school election in our midst, and that unless we arise as true
men and patriots, it will soon be at our throats. How do we find it out?
Our women folks tell us. You never saw such devoted women folks, or such
determined ones, either. The minute Delia leaves her house with her
marauding band in her annual attempt to get the scalp of the high school
principal who whipped her oldest son seventeen years ago, the women of
Homeburg _rise_. And we men go and vote.

Now, we're not enthusiastic about voting. We're not afraid of Delia.
We've seen her insurge too often. But we go and vote, anyway. We go by
request. You've never had your loving wife come in and request you to
vote, have you, Jim? Well, you've got something coming. It's a request
which you're going to grant. You may not want to, but that has nothing
to do with the case. This is about the way it happens in Homeburg: I am
sitting in my office. I've got a lot of work on hand, and it's no use to
vote, anyway, and, to tell the truth, I had forgotten all about it.
Suddenly the telephone bell rings: I answer it. Here's my cross-section
of the conversation:

"Hello? Oh, hello!... No, I haven't voted yet.... Pretty busy to-day....
You're coming down?... No, I don't want to vote.--What's the use? It's
the same old.... Now, my dear, it's just the same old row. She can't get
any.... But I tell you I'm busy. You go on and.... Yes, of course I'm an
American citizen, but I don't get a salary for it. I'm trying to
earn.... Well, five minutes to cast a useless vote is.... Oh, all right.
Anything to please you.... No, I'll not call up Judge Hicks. He's old
enough to vote by himself.... Oh, all right.... Now, look here, my dear,
I can't ask Fleming to do that. His wife is a friend of Mrs.
Arbingle's.... Yes, I can say that, but it would be a threat.... Oh, the
schools will run anyway. Now, don't get excited.... All right, doggone
it, it'll make a regular fool of me though!... Good-by.

"Gosh."

I am mopping my forehead while I say that. I'm going to vote and, what
is more, I'm going over to get Judge Hicks, who is a cross old
ma