took down the sign and painted out my
inscriptions. It was a good deal of trouble, for my letters were
fresh, but it was a rainy day, and I had plenty of time, and succeeded
tolerably well. Then I gave Euphemia the black-paint pot and the freedom
of the sign.

I went down to the creek to try a little fishing in wet weather, and
when I returned the new sign was done. On one side it read:

FLIES'
AND
WASPS'
HOTEL.

On the other:

HUNDRED-LEGGERS'
AND
RED-ANTS'
HOUSE.

"You see," said euphemia, "if any individuals mentioned thereon apply
for accommodation, we can say we are full."

This sign hung triumphantly for several days, when one morning, just as
we had finished breakfast, we were surprised to hear the stage stop at
the door, and before we could go out to see who had arrived, into the
room came our own stage-driver, as we used to call him. He had actually
left his team to come and see us.

"I just thought I'd stop an' tell ye," said he, "that ef ye don't look
out, Bill'll get ye inter trouble. He's bound to git the best o' ye, an'
I heared this mornin', at Lowry's, that he's agoin' to bring the county
clerk up here to-morrow, to see about yer license fur keepin' a hotel.
He says ye keep changin' yer signs, but that don't differ to him, for
he kin prove ye've kept travelers overnight, an' ef ye haven't got no
license he'll make the county clerk come down on ye heavy, I'm sure o'
that, fur I know Bill. An' so, I thought I'd stop an' tell ye."

I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of the
case. Euphemia pondered a moment. Then said she:

"I don't see why we should stay here any longer. It's going to rain
again, and our vacation is up to-morrow, anyway. Could you wait a little
while, while we pack up?" she said to the driver.

"Oh yes!" he replied. "I kin wait, as well as not. I've only got one
passenger, an' he's on top, a-holdin' the horses. He aint in any hurry,
I know, an' I'm ahead o' time."

In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the
house, and were in the stage, and, as we drove away, we cast a last
admiring look at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind. I would
much like to know if it is swinging there yet. I feel certain there has
been no lack of custom.

We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we owed her, and engaged her
to go up to the tavern and put things in order. She was very s