hen the clock struck six. An explanation ensued from the
girl, who only had a few bird-shot in her leg, and the policeman left
to bring Potts home. He arrived at about three in the morning, just as
the clock was striking eight. When the situation was unfolded to him,
his first action was to jam the butt of his gun through the clock,
whereupon it immediately struck two hundred and forty-three, and then
Potts pitched it over the fence. He has a new clock now, and things
are working better.

* * * * *

The Pottses celebrated their "iron wedding" one day last winter, and
they invited about one hundred and twenty guests to the wedding. Of
course each person felt compelled to bring a present of some kind; and
each one did. When Mr. and Mrs. Smith came, they handed Potts a pair
of flatirons. When Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived, they also had a pair of
flatirons. All hands laughed at the coincidence. And there was even
greater merriment when the Browns arrived with two pairs of flatirons.
But when Mr. and Mrs. Robinson came in with another pair of flatirons,
the laughter became perfectly convulsive.

There was, however, something less amusing about it when the Thompsons
arrived with four flatirons wrapped in brown paper. And Potts' face
actually looked grave when the three Johnson girls were ushered into
the parlor carrying a flatiron apiece. Each one of the succeeding
sixty guests brought flatirons, and there was no break in the
continuity until old Mr. Curry arrived from Philadelphia with a
cast-iron cow-bell. Now, Potts has no earthly use for a cow-bell, and
at any other time he would have treated such a present with scorn. But
now he was actually grateful to Mr. Curry, and he was about to embrace
him, when the Walsinghams came in with the new kind of-double-pointed
flatirons with wooden handles. And all the rest of the guests brought
the same articles excepting Mr. Rugby, and he had with him a patent
stand for holding flatirons. Potts got madder and madder every minute,
and by the time the company had all arrived he was nearly insane with
rage; and he went up to bed, leaving his wife to entertain the guests.
In the morning they counted up the spoils, and found that they had two
hundred and thirteen flatirons, one stand and a cow-bell. And now the
Pottses have cut the Smiths and Browns and Johnsons and Thompsons
and the rest entirely, for they are convinced that there was a
preconcerted design t