esent the Queen of Sheba,
come forward and sung the song we'd picked out for her, with the people
joining in the chorus:

We're for you, Woodrow Wilson,
One Hundred Million Strong!
We put you in the White House
And we know you can't do wrong.

It was very successful, barring hisses from all the Germans and English
present; but they was soon hushed up. Then Doc Sulloway come out and
told some funny anecdotes about two Irishmen named Pat and Mike, lately
landed in this country and looking for work, and imitated two cats in a
backyard, and drawing a glass of soda water, and sawing a plank in two;
and winding up with the announcement that he had donated a dozen bottles
of the great Indian Snake Oil Remedy for man and beast that had been
imparted to him in secret by old Rumpatunk, the celebrated medicine man,
who is supposed to have had it from the Great Spirit; and Ed Bemis, the
World's Challenge Cornetist, entertained one and all; and Beryl Mae done
her Spanish dance that I'd last seen her give at the Queen Esther
Cantata in the M.E. Church. And that was the end of the show; just
enough to start 'em buying things at the booths.

At least, we thought it would be. But what does a lot of the crowd do,
after looking round a little, but drift out into the hall and down to
this room where Cousin Egbert had his foul enterprise, whatever it was.
I didn't know yet, having held aloof, as you might say, owing to the old
hound's offensive manner. But I had heard three or four parties kind of
gasping to each other, had they seen what that Egbert Floud was doing in
the other room?--with looks of horror and delight on their faces. That
made me feel more superior than ever to the old smarty; so I didn't go
near the place yet, but herded people back to the raffles wherever I
could.

The first thing was Lon Price's corner lot, for which a hundred chances
had been sold. Lon had a blueprint showing the very lot; also a picture
of a choice dwelling or bungalow, like the one he has painted on the
drop curtain of Knapp's Opera House, under the line, "Price's Addition
to Red Gap; Big Lots, Little Payments." It's a very fancy house with
porches and bay windows and towers and front steps, and everything,
painted blue and green and yellow; and a blond lady in a purple gown,
with two golden-haired tots at her side, is waving good-bye to a tall,
handsome man with brown whiskers as he hurries out to the waiting street
car--tho