FullReads

“I call for a vote!” cried out one of the women, bridling a little. “And I want to say to you, Ed Higgins, that while I think Mrs. Crow will make the best marshal we’ve ever had, I wouldn’t go so far as to say she’s the best cook in Tinkletown. You haven’t been invited to eat in every house in this town, don’t forget that.”

“All in favour of making the nomination of Mrs. Crow unanimous signify by holding up their hands,” said the chairman.

Every hand went up. Then a rousing cheer was given for the “next Marshal of Tinkletown,” followed by the customary mumbling of “The Star Spangled Banner.”

Three full days were devoted by Anderson and the leaders of the Republican Party to the task of inducing Mrs. Crow to make the race against Minnie Stitzenberg. At first she refused point-blank. She didn’t intend to neglect her household duties for all the offices in Tinkletown!

“But, consarn it, Eva!” Anderson protested for the hundredth time, “nobody’s askin’ you to neglect your household duties. Ain’t I agreein’ to handle the job for you?”

“Well, I posi-tive-ly refuse to wear a star–or carry a pistol.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll wear the star.”

“And if you think I’ll traipse the streets of Tinkletown from morning till night, you’re very much–“

“That ain’t any respectable woman’s job,” said her husband stiffly. “You’re not expected to do it as long as you got a deputy.”

“And as for snooping around putting my nose into other people’s business,–why–“

“Now, don’t let that worry you, Eva. That’s part o’ my job.”

“Who’s going to tend jail when there’s anybody locked up in it?”

“I am, o’ course.”

“And who’s going to be street commissioner, truant officer, chief of the fire depart–“

“You are, Eva,–but I’m going to look after everything, mind you. All you got to do is to see that I git somethin’ to eat whenever I need it, an’ a bed to sleep in at night, an’ I’ll–“

“A bed to sleep in, you ninny!” she cried. “You’re going to sleep in the same bed you’ve been sleeping in for forty years. What are you talking about? Ain’t you going to sleep with me if I appoint you deputy marshal?”

“Certainly,” Anderson made haste to assure her. “Unofficially, o’ course,” he went on, with profound regard for the ethics involved.

“Well, I’ll think it over,” she said wearily. “Don’t bother me now, you two; can’t you see I’m making apple butter?”

“I hope you will consent to run, Mrs. Crow,” put in the wily Mr. Squires, “if only for the sake of showing Minnie Stitzenberg that it won’t do her any good to be saying things about–well, about anybody in particular.” He concluded very lamely.

“Has that woman been saying things about me?” demanded Mrs. Crow.

“I ought to have sense enough to keep my mouth shut,” said Harry, scowling darkly. Catching the astonished look on Anderson’s face, he hastily suggested that they “beat it.”

Out in the front yard Anderson halted him. “Has Minnie been saying anything about my wife, Harry Squires?”

Harry first looked over his shoulder and then winked. “Not that I know of,” he said, chuckling. “But I guess it’s safe to go ahead and print the ticket with Mrs. Crow’s name on it.”

Never in all its sedentary existence had Tinkletown experienced a livelier campaign.

“If you vote for Minnie Stitzenberg, I’ll never speak to you again,” was the common argument of the Crowites, and “Don’t you ever try to look me in the face again if you vote for that old Mrs. Crow,” was the slogan of the opposition.

Mrs. Crow conducted her own campaign.

Anderson discovered to his great dismay that his meals were not only irregular in the matter of time, but frequently did not materialize at all. His wife and daughters neglected him completely. On three separate occasions after waiting until nearly eight o’clock for his supper, he strolled disconsolately over to the equally abandoned home of Alf Reesling.