day nights,
and the like of that. And meantime things had been happenin'.

"The fust thing of importance was Gabe's leavin' town. Our Cape winter
weather was what fixed him. He stood the no'theasters and Scotch
drizzles till January, and then he heads for Key West and comfort.
Said his heart still beat warm for his native village, but his feet was
froze--or words similar. He cal'lated to be back in the spring. Then
the Reverend Fisher got a call to somewheres in York State, and felt
he couldn't afford not to hear it. Nobody blamed him; the salary paid
a minister in South Orham is enough to make any feller buy patent ear
drums. But that left our men's club without either skipper or pilot, as
you might say.

"One week after the farewell sermon, Daniel Bassett drops in casual on
me. He was passin' around smoking material lavish and regardless.

"'Stitt,' says he, 'you've always voted for Conservatism in our local
affairs, haven't you?'

"'Well,' says I, 'I didn't vote to roof the town hall with a new
mortgage, if that's what you mean.'

"'Exactly,' he says. 'Now, our men's club, while not as yet the success
we hoped for, has come to be a power for good in our community. It needs
for its president a conservative, thoughtful man. Bailey,' he says, 'it
has come to my ears that Gaius Ellis intends to run for that office. You
know him. As a taxpayer, as a sober, thoughtful citizen, my gorge rises
at such insolence. I protest, sir! I protest against--'

"He was standin' up, makin' gestures with both arms, and he had his
town-meetin' voice iled and runnin'. I was too busy to hanker for a
stump speech, so I cut across his bows.

"'All right, all right,' says I. 'I'll vote for you, Dan.'

"He fetched a long breath. 'Thank you,' says he. 'Thank you. That makes
ten. Ellis can count on no more than nine. My election is assured.'

"Seein' that there wa'n't but nineteen reg'lar voters who come to the
club meetin's, if Bassett had ten of 'em it sartin did look as if he'd
get in. But on election night what does Gaius Ellis do but send a wagon
after old man Solomon Peavey, who'd been dry docked with rheumatiz
for three months, and Sol's vote evened her up. 'Twas ten to ten, a
deadlock, and the election was postponed for another week.

"This was of a Tuesday. On Wednesday I met Bije Simmons, the chap who
was playin' pool at Jotham's.

"'Hey, Bailey!' says he. 'Shake hands with a brother. I'm goin' to jine
the men's club.'

"'