ppeal," he cried, "to the decency and gratitude of the
citizens of the town of Bayport. One of the persons I'm--that is, we're
waitin' for has done more for our beautiful village than all the rest
of us put together. There ain't no need for me to name him. A right
up-to-date town pump, a lovely memorial window, a--"

"How about that harbor appropriation?" cried a voice from the settees.

Mr. Simpson was taken aback. His face flushed and he angrily turned
toward the interrupter.

"That's you, Joe Dimick!" he shouted, pointing an agitated forefinger.
"You needn't scooch down. I know your tongue. The idea of you findin'
fault because a big man like Congressman Atkins don't jump when you
holler 'Git up!' What do YOU know about doin's at Washington? That
harbor appropriation 'll go through if anybody on earth can get it
through. There's other places besides Bayport to be provided for and--"

"And their congressmen provide for 'em," called another voice. Tad
whirled to face his new tormentor.

"Huh!" he grunted with sarcasm. "That's Lem Myrick, _I_ know. Lem, the
great painter, who votes where he paints and gets paid accordin'."

"Order!" cried several.

"Oh, all right, Mr. Moderator! I'll keep order all right. But I say to
you, Lem, and you, Joe Dimick, that I know who put these smart notions
into your heads. We all know, unless we're born fools. Who is it that's
been sayin' the Honorable Heman Atkins was shirkin' that appropriation?
Who was it said if HE was representative the thing would have gone
through afore this? Who's been makin' his brags that he could get it
through if he had the chance? You know who! So do I! I wish he was here.
I only wish he was here! I'd say it to his face."

"Well, he is. Heave ahead and say it."

Everyone turned toward the door. Captain Cy had entered the hall. He was
standing in the aisle, and with him was Bailey Bangs. The captain looked
very tired, almost worn out, but he nodded coolly to Mr. Simpson,
who had retired to his seat with surprising quickness and apparent
discomfiture.

"Here I am, Tad," continued the captain. "Say your piece."

But Tad, it appeared, was not anxious to "say his piece." He was
whispering earnestly with a group of his followers. Captain Cy held up
his hand.

"Mr. Moderator," he asked, "can I have the floor a minute? All I want to
say is that I cal'late I'm the feller the last speaker had reference to.
I HAVE said that I didn't see why that appropriat