is necktie Besides all this, his hair and beard had been
trimmed to perfection by a Holland House barber. Every morning his wife
was obliged to run a flatiron over his trousers to perpetuate the
crease. Altogether Anderson was a revelation not only to his family and
to the town at large, but to himself as well. He fairly staggered every
time he got a glimpse of himself in the shop windows.

All day long he strolled about the street, from store to store, or
leaned imposingly against every post that presented itself conveniently.
Naturally he was the talk of the town.

"Gee-mi-nently!" ejaculated Alf Reesling, catching sight of him late in
the day. "Is that the president?"

"It's Anderson Crow," explained Blootch Peabody.

"Who's dead?" demanded Alf.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Why, whose clothes is he wearin'?" pursued Alf, utterly overcome by the
picture.

"You'd better not let him hear you say that," cautioned Isaac Porter.
"He got 'em in New York. He says young Mr. Bonner give 'em to him fer a
weddin' present. Rosalie give him a pearl dingus to wear in his cravat,
an' derned ef he don't have to wear a collar all the time now. That
lawyer Barnes give him the cane. Gee whiz! he looks like a king, don't
he?"

At that moment Anderson approached the group in front of Lamson's store.
He walked with a stateliness that seemed to signify pain in his lower
extremities more than it did dignity higher up.

"How fer out do you reckon they are by this time, Blootch?" he asked
earnestly.

"'Bout ten miles further than when you asked while ago," responded
Blootch, consulting his watch.

"Well, that ought to get 'em to Liverpool sometime soon then. They took
a powerful fast ship. Makes it in less 'n six days, they say. Let's see.
They sailed day before yesterday. They must be out sight o' land by this
time."

"Yes, unless they're passin' some islands," agreed Blootch.

"Thunderation! What air you talkin' about?" said Anderson scornfully.
"Cuby an' Porty Rico's been passed long ago. Them islands ain't far from
Boston. Don't you remember how skeered the Boston people were durin' the
war with Spain? Feared the Spanish shells might go a little high an'
smash up the town? Islands nothin'! They've got away out into deep
water by this time, boys. 'y Gosh, I'm anxious about Rosalie. S'posin'
that derned boat struck a rock er upset er somethin'! They never could
swim ashore."

"Oh, there's no danger, Anderson," said