Anderson Crow, Detective

  "YOU ARE INVITED TO BE PRESENT"

  Anderson Crow sat on the porch of the post-office, ruminating over theepidemic that had assailed Tinkletown with singular virulence, and, in asense, enthusiasm. Not that there was anything sinister or loathsomeabout the plague. Far from it, he reflected, because it had broken outso soon after his bitter comments on the prolonged absence of theslightest symptom, or indication that a case was even remotely probable.And here he was, holding in his hand four fresh and unmistakable signsthat the contagion was spreading. In short, he had just received andopened four envelopes addressed to Mr. and Mrs. A. Crow, and eachcontained an invitation to a wedding.

  Alf Reesling, commonly known as the town drunkard, sat on the top step,whittling.

  "No law against gittin' married, is there, constable?" he inquired.

  "I don't know much about this new eugenric law," mused Mr. Crow,gingerly pulling at his whiskers. "So fer as I know, it ain't beenviolated up here."

  "What's the harm, anyway? You was sayin' yourself only the other daythat it's a crime the way the young fellers in this town _never_ gitmarried. Just set around the parlour stoves all winter holdin' hands,and on the front steps all summer----"

  "Like as not the gosh-derned cowards heard what I said and got up spunkenough to tackle matrimony," interrupted the venerable town marshal."June seems to be a good month fer weddin's everywhere else in the worldexcept right here in Tinkletown. The last one we had was in December,and that was two years ago. Annie Bliss and Joe Hodges. Now we're goin'to have 'em so thick and fast there won't be an unmarried man in theplace, first thing you know. Up to date, me and Mrs. Crow have hadseventeen printed invitations, and I don't know how many by word o'mouth. Fellers that never even done any courtin', so fer as I know, aregittin' married to girls that ain't had a beau since the Methodistrevival in nineteen-ten. They all got religion then, male and female,and there's nothin' like religion to make people think they ought tohave somebody to share their repentance with."

  "George Hoover's been goin' with Bessie Slayback ever sence McKinleybeat Bryan in 'ninety-six. Swore he'd never git married till we hadanother democratic president. We've had one fer more'n four years andnow he says he never dreamed there'd be another one, so he didn't thinkit was worth while to save up enough to git married on. You don't happento have a bid there fer his weddin', have you, Anderson? That would betoo much to expect, I guess."

  "How old do you make out Bessie is, Alf?" asked Mr. Crow, shuffling theenvelopes until he found the one he wanted. He removed the card, printedneatly by the _Tinkletown Banner_ Press, and squinted at it through hisspectacles.

  "Forty-nine," said Alf, promptly. "Twenty-sixth of last January."

  "Well, poor old George'll have to do his settin' in Sofer's store afterthe third o' June," said the other, chuckling. "She has threw him over,as my daughter would say."

  "What's that?"

  "Yep. Bessie's goin' to be married next Sunday to Charlie Smith."

  "Fer the Lord's sake!" gasped Alf. "How c'n that be? Charlie's got awife an' three grown children."

  "'Tain't old Charlie. It's young Charlie," said Anderson, looking hardat the invitation. "'Charles Elias Smith, Junior,' it says."

  Alf was speechless. He merely stared while the town marshal made mentalcalculations.

  "She's twenty-six years older'n he is, Alf."

  "There must be some mistake," muttered Alf.

  "Not if you're sure she's forty-nine," said Anderson. "Subtracttwenty-three from forty-nine and you have twenty-six, with nothin' tocarry. Besides, old Charlie's middle name is Bill."

  "Well, I'll be dog-goned," said Alf, in a weak voice.

  "And here's another'n'," said Anderson, passing a card to his companion.

  Alf read: "'The son and daughter of Mrs. Ellen Euphemia Ricketts requestthe pleasure of your company at the marriage of their mother to Mr.Pietro Emanuel Cocotte, on June 1, 1917, at twelve o'clock noon at thefamily residence, No. 17 Lincoln Street, Tinkletown, New York.' Well,I'll be--" Alf interrupted himself to repeat one of the names. "Who isthis Pietro Emanuel Cocotte? I never heard of--"

  "Petey Sickety," said Anderson.

  "The sprinklin'-cart driver?"

  "The same," said the marshal, his lips tightening. He had once tried toarrest the young man for "disturbing the peace," and had been obliged tocall upon the crowd for help.

  "Why, good gosh, he don't earn more'n ten dollars a week and he sendshalf of that back to Sweden," said Alf.

  "Europe," corrected Anderson, patiently. He had put up with a good dealof ignorance on the part of Alf during a long and watchfulacquaintanceship.

  "Anyhow," said the town drunkard, arising in some haste, "I guess I'llbe gittin' home. Maybe I ain't too late." He was moving off withconsiderable celerity.

  "Too late for what?" called out Anderson.

  "That measley, good-fer-nothin' Gates boy dropped in to see my girlQueenie last night. First time he's ever done it, but, by criminy, theway they're speedin' things up around here lately there's no tellin'what c'n happen in twenty-four hours."

  "Hold on a minute, Alf. I'll walk along with you. Now, see here,Alf,"--Mr. Crow laid a kindly, encouraging hand on the other's shoulderas they ambled down the main street of the village--"no matter whathappens, you mustn't let it git the best of you. Keep straight, oldfeller. Don't touch a drop o'--"

  Mr. Reesling stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk. "Dog-gone it,Anderson--leggo of my arm. Do you want everybody to think you're takin'me to jail, or home to my poor wife, or somethin' like that? It'll beall over town in fifteen minutes if you--"

  "'Tain't my fault if you've got a reputation, Alf," retorted the townmarshal sorrowfully.

  "Well, it ain't my fault either," declared Alf. "Look at me. I ain't hada drink in twenty-three years, and what good does it do me? Every time astranger comes to town people point at me an' say, 'There goes the towndrunkard.' Oh, I've heerd 'em. I ain't deef. An' besides, ain't theyalways preachin' at me an' about me at the Methodist an' Congregationalchurches? Ain't they always tellin' the young boys that they got to becareful er they'll be like Alf Reesling? An' what's it all come from?Comes from the three times I got drunk back in the fall of'ninety-three when my cousin was here from Albany fer a visit. I _had_to entertain him, didn't I? An' there wasn't any other way to do it inthis jerk-water town, was there? An' ever since then the windbags inthis town have been prayin' fer me an' pityin' my poor wife. That's whata feller gits fer livin' in a--"

  "Now, now!" admonished Anderson soothingly. "Don't git excited, Alf. Youdeserve a lot o' credit. Ain't many men, I tell you, could break offsudden like that, an'--"

  "Oh, you go to grass!" exclaimed Alf hotly.

  Anderson inspected him closely. "Lemme smell your breath, Alf Reesling,"he commanded.

  "What's the use?" growled Alf. "Wouldn't last fer twenty-three years,would it?"

  "Well, you talk mighty queer," said the marshal, unconvinced. Hecouldn't imagine such a thing as a strictly sober man telling him to goto grass. He was the most important man in Tinkletown.

  Further discussion was prevented by the approach of Mr. Crow's daughter,Susie, accompanied by a tall, pink-faced young man in a resplendentchecked suit and a dazzling red necktie. They came from Brubaker'spopular drugstore and ice-cream "parlour," two doors below.

  "Hello, Pop," said Susie gaily, as the couple sauntered past theirhalf-halting seniors.

  "H'are you, Mr. Crow?" was the young man's greeting, uttered with theconvulsive earnestness of sudden embarrassment. "Fine day, ain't it?"

  Mr. Crow said that it was, and then both he and Alf stopped short intheir tracks and gazed intently at the backs of the young people. Evenas they stared, a fiery redness enveloped the ears of Susie's companion.A few steps farther on he turned his head and looked back. Somethingthat may be described as sheepish defiance marked that swift,involuntary glance.

  Mr. Reesling broke the silence. There was a worried, sympathetic note inhis voice.


  "Got on his Sunday clothes, Anderson, and this is only Wednesday. Beatsthe Dutch, don't it?"

  "I wonder--" began Mr. Crow, and then closed his lips so tightly and soabruptly that his sparse chin whiskers stuck out almost horizontally.

  He started off briskly in the wake of the young people. Alf, forgettinghis own apprehensions in the face of this visible manifestation,shuffled along a few paces behind.

  Miss Crow and her companion turned the corner below and were lost toview.

  "By gosh," said Alf, suddenly increasing his speed until he came abreastof the other; "you better hurry, Anderson. Justice Robb's in his office.I seen his feet in the winder a little while ago."

  "They surely can't be thinkin' of--" Mr. Crow did not complete thesentence.

  "Why not?" demanded Alf. "Everybody else is. And it would be just likethat Schultz boy to do it without an invitation. Ever since this war'sbeen goin' on them Schultzes have been blowin' about always bein'prepared fer anything. German efficiency's what they're always throwin'up to people. I bet he's been over to the county seat an' got a licenseto--"

  Anderson interrupted him with a snort. He put his hand on his right hippocket, where something bulged ominously, and quickened his pace.

  "I been watchin' these Schultzes fer nearly a year," said he, "an' thewhole caboodle of 'em are spies."

  They turned the corner. Susie and her companion were on the point ofdisappearing in a doorway fifty yards down Sickle Street.

  Anderson slowed up. He removed his broad felt hat with the gold cordaround it, and mopped his forehead.

  "That's the tin-type gallery," he said, a little out of breath.

  "Worse an' more of it," said Alf. "That's the surest sign I know of. Itnever fails. Mollie an' me had our'n taken the day before we was marriedan'--an'--why, it's almost the same as a certificat', Anderson."

  "Now, you move on, Alf," commanded the marshal. "How many times I got totell you not to loiter aroun' the streets? Move on, I say."

  "Aw, now, Anderson--"

  "I'll have to run you in, Alf. The ord'nance is very p'ticular, an' thatnotice stuck up on the telephone pole over there means you more'nanybody else. No loiterin'."

  "If you need any evidence ag'in that Schultz boy, just call on me," saidAlf generously. "I seen him commit an atrocity last week."

  "What was it?"

  "He give that little Griggs girl a lift in his butcher wagon," said Alfdarkly.

  Anderson scowled. "The sooner we run these cussed Germans out o' townthe better off we'll be."

  Alf ambled off, casting many glances over his shoulder, and the marshalcrossed the street and entered Hawkins's Undertaking and Embalmingestablishment, from a window of which he had a fair view of the"studio."

  Presently Susie and young Schultz emerged, giggling and snickering overthe pink objects they held in their hands. They sauntered slowly,shoulder to shoulder, in the direction of Main Street.

  Mr. Hawkins was in the middle of one of his funniest stories whenAnderson got up and walked out hurriedly. The undertaker had areputation as a wit. He was the life of the community. He radiatedoptimism, even when most depressingly employed. And here he was tellingAnderson Crow a brand-new story he had heard at a funeral over inKirkville, when up jumps his listener and "lights out" without so muchas a word. Mr. Hawkins went to the door and looked out, expecting to seea fight or a runaway horse or a German airplane. All he saw was themarshal not two doors away, peering intently into a show-window, whilefrom across the street two young people regarded him with visibleamusement. For a long time thereafter the undertaker sat in his officeand stared moodily at the row of caskets lining the opposite wall. Couldit be possible that he was losing his grip?

  Miss Crow and Mr. Otto Schultz resumed their stroll after a few moments,and the marshal, following their movements in the reflectingshow-window, waited until they were safely around the corner. Then heretraced his steps quickly, passed the undertaker's place, and turnedinto the alley beyond. Three minutes later, he entered Main Street ablock above Sickle Street, and was leaning carelessly against the Indiantobacco sign in front of Jackson's cigar store, when his daughter andher companion bore down upon his left flank.

  Mr. Alf Reesling was a few paces behind them.

  As they came within earshot, young Schultz was saying in a suspiciouslyearnest manner:

  "You better come in and have anodder sody, Susie."

  Just then their gaze fell upon Mr. Crow.

  "Goodness!" exclaimed Susie, startled.

  "By cheminy!" fell from Otto's wide-open mouth. He blinked a couple oftimes. "Is--is that you?" he inquired, incredulously.

  "You mean _me_?" asked Anderson, with considerable asperity.

  "Sure," said Otto, halting.

  "Can't you see it's me?" demanded Mr. Crow.

  "But you ain'd here," said the perplexed young man, getting pinker allthe time. "You're aroundt in Sickle Street."

  "Alf!" called out Anderson. "Look here a minute. Is this me?" He spokewith biting sarcasm.

  Mr. Reesling regarded him with some anxiety.

  "You better go home, Anderson," he said. "This sun is a derned sighthotter'n you think."

  "Didn't we see you a minute ago around in Sickle Street, Pop?" inquiredSusie. "Looking in that hair-dresser's window?"

  "Maybe you did and maybe you didn't," replied Mr. Crow, shrewdly. Then,with thinly veiled significance: "I'm purty busy lookin' into a goodmany things nowadays." He favoured Otto with a penetrating glance. "Eversence the U. S. A. declared war on Germany, Mr. Otto Schultz."

  "How aboudt that sody, Miss Susie?" said Otto, in a pained sort ofvoice.

  "You'd better be saving your money, Otto," she advised, with suchfirmness that her father looked at her sharply.

  "Oh, spiffles!" said Otto, getting still redder.

  Mr. Crow was all ears. Alf Reesling burned his fingers on a match heheld too long in the hot, still air some six or eight inches from thebowl of his pipe.

  "Well, getting married is no joke," said Susie, shaking her pretty headsolemnly.

  Otto took a deep breath. "You bet you it ain'd," he said, with feeling.That seemed to give him courage. He took off his straw hat, and, as heran his finger around the moist "sweat-band," he blurted out: "I don'tmind if you tell your fadder, Susie. Go and tell him."

  "Tell him yourself," said Susie.

  "As I was saying a few minutes ago," said Otto ingenuously, "the onlyobchection I had to your tellin' your fadder was that I didn't wanteverybody in town to know it before I could get home and tell my motheryet."

  "Don't go away, Alf," said Mr. Crow, darkly. "I'll need you as awitness. I hereby subpoena you as a witness to what's goin' to happen inless'n no time. Now, Mr. Otto Schultz, spit it out."

  Otto disgorged these cyclonic words:

  "I'm going to get married, Mr. Crow, that's all."

  Mr. Crow was equally explicit and quite as brief.

  "Only over my dead body," he shouted, and then turned upon Susie. "Yougo home, Susan Crow! Skedaddle! Get a move on, I say. I'll nip thisblamed German plot right in the beginning. Do you hear me, Susan--"

  Susan stared at him. "Hear you?" she cried. "They can hear you up inthe graveyard. What on earth's got into you, Pop? What--"

  "You'll see what's got into me, purty derned quick," said Anderson, andpointed his long, trembling forefinger at the amazed Mr. Schultz, whohad dropped his hat and was stooping over to retrieve it without takinghis eyes from the menacing face of the speaker.

  It had rolled in the direction of Mr. Alf Reesling. That gentlemanobligingly stopped it with his foot. After removing his foot, heundertook to return the hat without stooping at all, the result beingthat it sped past Otto and landed in the middle of the street sometwenty feet away.

  "So you think you c'n git married without my consent, do you?" demandedAnderson, witheringly. "You think you c'n sneak around behind my backan'--"

  "I ain'd sneakin' aroundt behind anybody's back," broke in Otto,straightening
up. "I don't know what you are talking aboud, Mr.Crow,--and needer do you," he added gratuitously. "What for do I haf toget your consent to get married for? I get myself's consent and mygirl's consent and my fadder's consent--Say!" His voice rose. "Don't youthink I am of age yet?"

  "If you talk loud like that, I'll run you in fer disturbin' the peace,young feller," warned Anderson, observing that a few of Tinkletown'scitizens were slowly but surely surrendering squatter's rights tochairs and soap-boxes on the shady side of the block. "Just you keep acivil tongue in--"

  "You ain'd answered my question yet," insisted Otto, with increasedvigour.

  "Here's your hat, Otto," said Alf Reesling in a conciliatory voice. Hewas brushing the article with the sleeve of his coat. "A horse must'a'stepped on it or somethin'. I never see--"

  "Ain'd I of age, Mr. Crow?" bellowed Otto. "Didn't I vote for you at thelast--"

  "That ain't the question," interrupted Anderson sharply. "The questionis, is the girl of age?" He favoured his sixteen-year-old daughter witha fiery glance.

  Otto Schultz's broad, flat face became strangely pinched. There wassomething positively apoplectic in the hue that spread over it.

  "Oh, Pop!" shrieked Susie, a peal of laughter bursting from her lips.Instantly, however, her two hands were pressed to her mouth, stiflingthe outburst.

  Otto gave her a hurt, surprised--and unmistakably horrified--look. Thena silly grin struggled into existence.

  "Maybe she don'd tell the truth aboud her age yet, Mr. Crow," he saidhuskily. "Women always lie aboud their ages. Maybe she lie aboud hers."

  Anderson flared. "Don't you dare say my daughter lies about her age--oranything else," he roared.

  "Whose daughter?" gasped Otto.

  "Mine!"

  "But she ain'd your daughter."

  "_What!_ Well, of all the--"

  Words failed Mr. Crow. He looked helplessly, appealingly at AlfReesling, as if for support.

  _Words failed Mr. Crow_]

  Mr. Reesling rose to the occasion.

  "Do you mean to insinuate, Otto Schultz, that--" he began as he startedto remove his coat.

  By this time Susie felt it was safe to trust herself to speech. Sheremoved her hands from her mouth and cried out:

  "He isn't talking about me, Pop," she gasped. "It's Gertie Bumbelburg."

  "Sure," said Otto hastily.

  Mr. Crow still being speechless, Alf suspended his belligerentpreparations, and cocking one eye calculatingly, settled the matter ofMiss Bumbelburg's age with exasperating accuracy.

  "Gertie's a little past forty-two," he announced. "Born in March, 1875,just back o' where Sid Martin's feed-store used to be."

  The marshal had recovered his composure.

  "That's sufficient," he said, accepting Alf s testimony with a profoundair of dignity. "There ain't no law against anybody marryin' a woman oldenough to be his mother."

  "Everybody in town give Gertie up long ago," added Alf, amiably. "Onlygoes to show that while there's life there's hope. I'd 'a' swore shewas on the shelf fer good. How'd you happen to pick her, Otto?"

  "She's all right," growled Otto uncomfortably. Then he added, withconsiderable acerbity: "I'm goin' to tell her you said she wasforty-two, Alf Reesling."

  "Well, ain't she?" demanded Alf, bristling.

  "No, she ain'd," replied Otto. "She's twendy-nine."

  "Come, come," put in Anderson sternly. "None o' this now! Move on, Alf!No scrappin' on the public thoroughfares o' Tinkletown. You're gettin'more and more rambunctious every day, Alf."

  "He ought to be ashamed of himself, speakin' by a lady when he knowshe's in such a condition," said Otto, turning from the unfortunate Alfto Miss Crow. "Ain'd that so, Susie?"

  "Don't answer, Susie," said Mr. Crow, quickly. "This is no time to sidein with Germany."

  "I'm as good an American as you are already," cried Otto, goaded beyondendurance.

  Mr. Crow smiled tolerantly. "Git out! Let's hear you say 'vinegar'."

  "Winegar," said Otto triumphantly. "I can say it as good as you canyet."

  Anderson nudged Mr. Reesling, and chuckled.

  "That's the way to spot 'em," he said significantly.

  "There's a better way than that," said Alf.

  "How's that?"

  Alf whispered in the marshal's ear.

  Anderson shook his head. "But where are you goin' to get the weenywurst,Alf?"

  "Come on, Otto," said Susie, impatiently. "I have an engagement."

  They moved off rapidly, passing the ice-cream parlour withouthesitating.

  "D'you hear that?" said Alf, after a moment. "She said she was engaged."

  That night Anderson Crow, town marshal, superintendent of streets, chiefof the fire department, post-commander of the G. A. R., truant officer,dog-catcher, member of the American Horse-thief Detective Association,member of the Universal Detective Bureau, chairman of TinkletownBattlefield Society, etc., lay awake until nearly nine o'clock, seekinga solution to the astonishing problem that confronted Tinkletown and itsenvirons.

  * * * * *

  Late reports, received by telephone just before retiring, ran the numberof prospective marriages up to twenty-eight. His daughters, Susie andCaroline--the latter the eldest of a family of six and secretlyapproaching the age of thirty-two--confided to him that they had hadeleven and three proposals respectively. A singular feature of the crazewas the unanimity of impulse affecting men between the ages of twentyand thirty, and the utter absence of concentration on the part of theapplicants. It was of record that some of them proposed to as many asfive or six young women before being finally accepted. Rashness appearedto be the watchword. The matrimonial stampede swept caution andconsequences into a general heap, and delivered a community of thebackwardness that threatened to become a menace to posterity.

  As Anderson Crow lay in his bed, he tried to enumerate on his fingersthe young men who remained unpledged. Starting with his thumb he got asfar as the third finger of his left hand and then, being sleepy and theeffort a trying one, he lost track of those already counted and had tobegin all over again, with the maddening result that he could go nofurther than the second finger. One of the eligibles had slipped hismind completely. The whole situation was harrowing.

  "Fer instance," he ruminated aloud, oblivious of the fact that his wifewas sound asleep, "what is a feller like Newt Blossom goin' to keep awife on, I'd like to know. He c'n hardly keep himself in chewin'tobaccer as it is, an' as fer the other necessities of life he wouldn'thave any of 'em if his mother wasn't such a dern' fool about him. Theidee of him tryin' to get our Susie to marry him--an' Carrie too, ferthat matter--w'y, I git in a cold sweat every time I think of it."

  He shook his wife vigorously.

  "Say, Ma," he said, yawning, "I just thought o' somethin' I want you toremember in the mornin'. Wake up."

  "All right," she mumbled, sleepily. "What is it?"

  But Mr. Crow was now fast asleep himself.

  * * * * *

  Early the next morning he entered the kitchen, where he found Carolinehelping her mother with the breakfast.

  Mrs. Crow paused in the act of paring slices from a side of bacon. Sheeyed her husband inimically.

  "See here, Anderson, you just got to put a stop to all thisfoolishness."

  "Don't bother me. Can't you see I'm thinkin'?" said he.

  "Well, it's time you did somethin' more than think. That Smathers boywas here about ten minutes ago, red as a beet, askin' fer Susie. Carrietold him she wasn't up yet, and what do you think the littlewhipper-snapper said?"

  Anderson blinked, and shook his head.

  "He said, 'Well, I guess you'll do, Caroline. Would you mind steppin'outside fer a couple of minutes? I got somethin' I want to say to you inprivate.'"

  Caroline sat down and laughed unrestrainedly.

  "Well, by geminy crickets!" gasped Anderson, aghast. Then he addedanxiously: "You--you didn't go an' do anything foolish
, did you,Carrie?"

  "Not unless you'd call throwing a pail of cold water on him foolish,"said Carrie, wiping her eyes.

  "Somethin's got to be done, Anderson," said his wife, compressing herlips.

  Susie came in at that juncture. She was the apple of Anderson's eye--theprettiest girl in town. Mr. Crow hurried to the kitchen door.

  "Go back upstairs," he ordered, casting a swift, uneasy glance aroundthe back yard.

  "What's the matter, Pop?"

  Mr. Crow did not respond. His keen, roving eye had descried a motionlessfigure at the mouth of the alley.

  Caroline explained.

  "Can you beat it?" cried Susie, inelegantly, but with a very properscorn. "I told him yesterday he ought to be ashamed of himself, tryingto coax Fanny Burns away from Ed Foster."

  "Ed Foster?" exclaimed Mr. Crow sharply, turning from the doorway. "Why,he's not goin' to be married till after the war, an' that's a long waysoff. Ed's around in his uniform an' says the National Guard's likely tobe called 'most any day now. He--"

  "That's one of the arguments Joe Smathers put up to Fanny," said hisyoungest daughter. "He said maybe the war would last five years, and hethought she was a fool to wait that long. What's more, he said, if Edever does get to France he's likely to be killed--or fatallywounded--and then where would she be?"

  Anderson suddenly lifted his right leg and slapped it with great force.

  "By the great Jehoshaphat!" he shouted. "I've got it! I've solved thewhole derned mystery. Come to me like a flash. Of all the low-down,cowardly--"

  Mrs. Crow interrupted him. "Do you mean to say, Anderson Crow, that younever suspected what's got into all these gay Lotharios?"

  He was instantly on his guard. "What are you talkin' about, Ma?" hedemanded querulously. "You surely can't mean to insinuate that I--"

  "What is this mystery you've just been solvin'?" she asked relentlessly.

  He met this with a calm intolerance.

  "Nothin' much. Just simply got to the bottom of a German plot to stuffthe young men of America so full of weddin' cake they won't be able togit into the trenches, that's all."

  "My goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Crow, who, as a dutiful wife, never failedto be impressed by her husband's belated discoveries.

  "Eggin' our boys into gittin' married, so's they can't be drafted," wenton Anderson, expanding with his new-found idea. "It's a generalpro-German plot--world-wide, as the sayin' is. Now, I'll tell yousomethin' else. Shut the door, Susie. Like as not some spy's listenin'outside this very minute. They know I'm onto 'em." He lowered hisvoice. "You'd be surprised if I was to tell you that the whole dernedplot originated right here in Tinkletown, wouldn't you? Well, that'sexactly what I'm goin' to tell you. Started right here and spread fromone end of the land to the other. Sort of headquarters here. I don'tknow as there is any more prominent or influential Germans in the wholeUnited States than Adolph Schultz, the butcher on Main Street, andHeiney Wimpelmeyer, the tanyard man, and Ben Olson, the contractor,and--"

  "Ben Olson is a Swede," interrupted Carrie.

  "He _claims_ to be a Swede," said her father severely. "Don't try totell me anything, Carrie. I guess I know what I'm talkin' about." Hepaused to mentally repair the break in his chain of thought."Um--ah--what _wuz_ I talkin' about?"

  "About the Swedes," said Carrie, snickering.

  "Breakfast's ready, Pa," said Mrs. Crow. "Call the boys, Susie."

  "How are you going to stop it, Pop?" inquired Susie, after they were allseated.

  "Never you mind," said he. "I've got the thing all worked out. I'll stopit, all right."

  "You can't keep people from gittin' married, Anderson, if they're set ondoin' it," said his wife.

  "You bet if I was old enough I wouldn't be gittin' married," saidfourteen-year-old Hiram, in a somewhat ambiguous burst of patriotism.

  Immediately after breakfast Mr. Crow set out for the town hall. He wasdeep in thought. His whiskers were elevated to an almost unprecedentedlevel, so tightly was his jaw set. He had made up his mind to preservethe honour of Tinkletown. Meeting Alf Reesling in front of the postoffice, he unburdened himself in a flood of indignation that left thetown drunkard soberer than he had been in years, despite his vauntedabstemiousness.

  "But you can't slap all the Germans in jail, Anderson," protested Alf."In the first place, it ain't legal, and in the second place--in thesecond place--" He paused and scratched his head, evidently to somepurpose, for suddenly his face cleared. "In the second place, the jailain't big enough."

  "That ain't my fault," said the marshal grimly. "We've got to nip thisthing in the bud if we have to--"

  "What proof have you got that the Germans are back of all this? Got tohave proof, you know."

  "Gosh a'mighty, Alf, ain't you got any sense at all? What are all thesefellers gittin' married for if there ain't somethin' behind it? Theyain't--"

  "They're gittin' married because every blamed one of 'em is a slacker,"said Alf forcibly.

  "A what?"

  "Slacker. They don't want to fight, that's what it means."

  Anderson pondered. He tugged at his whiskers.

  "They don't want to fight _who_?" he demanded abruptly.

  "W'y--w'y--nobody," said Alf.

  "They don't want to fight the _Germans_," said Mr. Crow triumphantly."That ought to settle the matter, Alf. What better proof do you wantthan that? That shows the Germans are back of the whole infernal plot.They are corruptin' our young men. Eggin' 'em into gittin' marriedso's--"

  "Well," said Alf, "there's only one way to put a stop to that. You gotto appeal to the women and girls of this here town. You simply got totalk to 'em like a Dutch uncle, Anderson. These boys of our'n have justgot to remain single fer the duration of the war."

  "That puts an idee in my head," said Anderson. "S'posin' I put up anofficial notice from Washin'ton that all marriages contracted before thedraft are fer the duration of the war only. How's that?"

  "Thunderation! No! That's just what the boys would like better'nanything."

  "But it ain't what the _girls_ would like, it is?"

  Mr. Reesling was silent for a long time, letting the idea crystallize,so to speak.

  "Supposin' they hear about it in Washin'ton," said he doubtfully, butstill dazzled by the thought.

  "President Wilson don't know this town's on the map," said Anderson, amost surprising admission for him. "An' even if he does hear about it,he'll back me up, you c'n bet your boots on that--even if I am aRepublican. Come on, Alf; let's step around to the _Banner_ printin'office."

  Shortly before noon a hastily printed poster, still damp and smelling ofink, appeared on the bulletin-board in front of the town hall. A fewminutes later a similar decoration marred the facade of the Fairbanksscales in front of Higgins's Feed Store, and still another loomed up onthe telephone pole in front of the post office.

  With the help of the editor, who was above all things an enterprisingcitizen and a patriot, the "official notice" was drafted, doctored andapproved in the dingy composing-room of the _Tinkletown Banner_. Thelone compositor, with a bucket of paste, sallied forth and, under thecritical eye of the town marshal, "stuck up" the poster in places whereno one could help seeing it.

  The notice read:

  OFFICIAL!!!

  War Proclamation No. 7!!!

  The Undersigned by Virtue of the Authority vested in him by his fellowmen hereby gives DUE NOTICE to the citizens of Tinkletown that the President of These United States and Congress in solemn conclave have uttered the following decree, to become effective immediately upon publication thereof:

  All marriages entered into by Male Citizens of the United States of America between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one on and after this date, the 21st of May, 1917, shall be in force for the duration of the War only. This measure is
taken at this time for the purpose of making things as easy as possible for our young heroes, who, in the grave hour of battle, must not be worried with thoughts of the future.

  Men so marrying shall have precedence over all others in the SELECTIVE DRAFT for the National Army Immediately to be Called. Such men shall be the first called to the Colours. TEMPORARY WIDOWS of any and all such Soldiers shall not be entitled to PENSIONS in the Event of the Death of said Provisional Husbands, and shall revert upon notice thereof, to the State of Single-blessedness from which they were LURED!!! By order of ANDERSON CROW, Marshal.

  As the first of these desolating posters was put in place, the Rev. Mr.Maltby, pastor of the Congregational Church, happened to be passing thetown hall. He halted and, in astonishment, read the notice.

  _The Rev. Mr. Maltby, pastor of the CongregationalChurch, happened to be passing the town hall_]

  "My dear man," said he to Mr. Crow, "this cannot be true."

  "Does seem a little high-handed, don't it?" said Anderson guiltily.

  "Can it be possible that the President has issued such arevolutionary--"

  "Listen a minute, Mr. Maltby," said the marshal, taking him by the armand furtively glancing over his own shoulder. "It ain't true--not aderned word of it. Now, wait a minute. Don't fly off the--Mornin',Father Maloney, mornin' to you."

  The sunny-faced Catholic priest had joined them. He adjusted hisspectacles and peered at the notice.

  "Well, well, bless my soul!" he exclaimed, staring blankly at theCongregationalist. "What's all this I see?"

  "Come inside," said Anderson hastily. "Alf, if you happen to see Mr.Downs, the Methodist preacher, and Justice Robb, bring 'em here rightaway, will you?"

  "Shall I go ahead and paste any more of these, Anderson?" inquired thecompositor, shifting his quid.

  "Certainly," said the marshal.

  Later on the marshal left the town hall, followed by several smilinggentlemen of the cloth, Justice Robb, and the editor of the _Banner_.

  "Bless your heart, Marshal Crow," said Father Maloney, "we're with ye toa man. It's a glorious lie ye're telling, and ye've got the church solidbehind ye."

  "Naturally _we_ shall not be obliged to falsify," said the Rev. Mr.Maltby, still a bit shaken. "We can simply say that the matter is newsto us. Eh, brothers?"

  "Sure," said Father Maloney. "We can do that much for the good of thecountry. Indeed, if I'm closely pressed I may go as far as to say that Icaught a glimpse of the official despatch from Washington. This is notime to deny the President, gentlemen, no matter who issues hisproclamation." He added the last with a whimsical smile and a wink thatrather shocked his Methodist brother. "Especially when the whole matteris vouched for by our respected town marshal, who, to my certainknowledge, possesses the veracity of a George Washington. Have you everbeen caught chopping down a cherry tree, Mr. Marshal?"

  "No, _sir_," said Anderson promptly.

  Father Maloney beamed. "There ye are!" he exclaimed heartily. "I told yeso. The epitome of veracity. There isn't another man of his age inAmerica who would have answered no to that question, with no one in aposition to contradict him."

  The editor had his notebook. "Gentlemen, would you object to beinginterviewed on this important message from Washington? Giving your viewson the situation and anything else--"

  "You may say for me, Harry, that I warmly indorse the President of theUnited States in any act which he may deem wise and expedient," saidRev. Mr. Maltby, rising nobly to the occasion. Father Maloney and Rev.Mr. Downs promptly acquiesced.

  "And also that I am prepared to issue marriage certificates for theduration of the war to all females so desirin' 'em," said Justice of thePeace Robb. "It ain't cuttin' me out of any fees," he went on,addressing the marshal. "Fer as I c'n make out, they all want to gitmarried fer nothin'."

  "I will be very careful how I word your remarks, gentlemen," said EditorSquires, putting up his notebook. "Now, I'll start out and interview afew of the prospective brides. It ought to make good reading."

  Long before nightfall the sleepy village of Tinkletown was in a state ofagitation unsurpassed by anything within the memory of the oldestinhabitant.... Along about supper time one could have heard animatedarguments rising above the clear stillness of the air, penetrating evento the heaven which was called upon to witness the unswerving fidelityof two opposing sexes. There was a distinct difference, however, in theduration of this professed fidelity. Masculine voices pleaded for theimmediate justification of undying constancy, while those of a femininequality preferred a prolongation of the exquisite agony of suspense. Inshort, the brides-elect were obdurate. They insisted on waiting, even tothe end of time, for the realization of their fondest, dearest hopes.Several heartbroken gentlemen, preferring anything to procrastination,threatened to shoot themselves.

  _Several heartbroken gentlemen threatened to shootthemselves_]

  "What's the sense of doing that?" argued one middle-aged widow of apractical turn of mind. "You can save funeral expenses by letting theGermans do it for you."

  The next day the merchants of Tinkletown--notably the Five and Ten CentStore and Fisher's Queensware Store--did a thriving business. From oneend of the town to the other came people returning presents thatfortunately had not been delivered, and others asking to have theiraccounts credited with presents already received.

  Of the twenty-odd weddings announced for the week ending June 3, 1917,only one took place.

  Mr. Otto Schultz was married on Saturday to Miss Bumbelburg. He was theonly candidate in town who was worth suing for breach of promise. MissBumbelburg, having waited many years for her chance, was not to befrightened by a Presidential proclamation. The duration of the war meantnothing to her. She had unlimited faith in the Kaiser. When the war wasover he would come over to the United States and revoke all the sillyold laws. And she was so positive about it that, after a rather heatedinterview in the home of Mr. Schultz, senior, that gentleman admitted itwould be cheaper for her to come and live with them after the weddingthan to present her with the thousand dollars she demanded in case Ottopreferred war to peace.

  Mr. Crow, on the 5th of June, strode proudly, efficiently, up and downMain Street, always stopping at the registration booth to slap formerfiances on the back and encourage them with such remarks as this:

  "That's right, son. If you've _got_ to fight, fight for your country."

  To Mr. Alf Reesling he confided:

  "I tell you what, Alf, when this here Kaiser comes up ag'inst me hestrikes a snag. He couldn't 'a' started his plot in a worse place thanhere in Tinkletown. Gosh, with all you hear about German efficiency,you'd 'a' thought he'd 'a' knowed better, wouldn't you?"