Not a scrap of paper remained in a
single one of them.

"My God!" he groaned, burying his face in his hands. He had no doubt at
all as to the quality of the linen in Susan Walton's laundry bag.

Meanwhile Prim was standing on the platform of the vestibule train tying
his cravat. He had not taken the trouble to buy a ticket. He had
actually swung on board the train as it moved slowly out of the depot
along the track which ran directly behind the National Bank Building.

* * * * *

The Fourth of July fell on Saturday, the day wisely chosen by the
Women's Leagues for their mass meeting. Bills were posted advertising
this "historical event" far and wide in every post office, and country
store, in mills, gin houses, and at every crossroad in the county.

_Co-Citizens' Mass Meeting_
_Great Historical Event!_
_At Jordantown Hall, July 4th, 3:00 p. m._
_Speeches by Prominent Leaders of the Movement!_
_Announcement of Election Plans!_
_Everybody invited!_

If anything could have added to the crowds which gathered in Jordantown
every year on this day, these impudent circulars were calculated to do
it.

"Election plans! by gad!" exclaimed Squire Deal when he found one of the
obnoxious bills posted on the door of the little courtroom in Possum
Trot. "Who said there was going to be an election, I'd like to know.
Darndest piece of impudence I ever saw in my life!"

"Maybe they'll tell us what their rickrack political platform is, too!"
said another farmer.

Nevertheless, they all went to Jordantown on the appointed day. It was
their custom to go, and they were determined that this woman foolishness
should not interfere with their long-established habit of celebrating
the Fourth.

The sun rose blistering hot. Clouds of dust rolled above every highway
to the town, and out of it moved a long procession of vehicles, buggies,
wagons, even ox carts, all filled with men, women, and children.

Jordantown was doing its best to look glorious. It had thrown off for a
moment the lethargy of business depression. Flags waved, the Town Hall
was literally swathed in yellow bunting, with a great white canvas
stretched across the top of the doors, upon which was printed in black
letters a foot long:

_Co-Citizens' Mass Meeting!_
_3:00 p. m._
_Don't Miss It!_

The square teamed with life and glory. Mules brayed, horses neighed,
dogs yelped, man hailed his fellowman. Matrons in calico