as he heard the
words, the last of Toby's ill-humor vanished. His stupid face
wreathed itself into a broad grin as he watched the blank look of
disappointment spread itself over Sandy's face.

"Listen here, all of you," the president went on, quite undisturbed by
the feelings he had stirred in the widower. "This is wot the leddy
says. She's writ it all so ther' can't be no mistake."

Then he began to read from his document with careful distinctness.

"'Don't take no notice of what I told Toby Jenks an' Sandy Joyce. I
jest fooled 'em proper. Toby's a nice boy, but he ain't got brains
enough to kep himself warm on a summer day, so I didn't waste nothin'
on him, 'cep' time. As fer Sandy, he's sech a con-se-quenshul--' Have
I got that word right, Sunny?" Bill inquired blandly of the
secretary.

"You sure have," grinned Sunny, enjoying himself.

"'Sech a consequenshul fool of an idjut man,'" Bill read on, with a
glance into Sandy's scarlet face, "'that I hadn't no time but to push
him out of this dinin'-room.'"

"The miser'ble hash-slinger," exploded the exasperated Sandy,
springing to his feet, his eyes blazing with impotent fury.

"Sit down," commanded the president. "This yere is a proper meetin' of
the Zip Trust, an' don't call fer no langwidge ag'in a defenseless
woman."

"Then she ain't no right to say things," cried the outraged man.

"She ain't. She's wrote 'em," retorted Bill, in a manner that left
nothing more to be said. "'Consequenshul,' was the word," he went on,
rolling it off his tongue as though he enjoyed its flavor, "an' I
allow it must have took her thinking some to be so elegant. You'll
set," he added, glancing up severely at the still standing man.

Sandy dropped back on his box, but he was anything but appeased. His
dignity was hurt sorely. He, who understood women so well, to be
treated like this. Then he tried to console himself with the opinion
that after all Birdie was not exactly a woman, only a "pot-rustler."
But Bill was pushing the business forward. He wanted to get the matter
in hand settled.

"Here," he went on, "this is how she says of them kids: 'You can't
jest lay down reg'lations fer feedin'. Jest feed 'em natural, an' if
they git a pain dose 'em with physic. Ther's some things you must kep
'em from gittin' into their stummicks. Kindlin' wood is ridiculous fer
them to chew, ther' ain't no goodness in it, an' it's li'ble to run
slivvers into their vitals. Sulphur matches ain'