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"The second condition," said the Costumer, "is that this good young Cherry-man here has the Mayor's daughter, Violetta, for his wife. He has been kind to me, letting me live in his cherry-tree and eat his cherries and I want to reward him." "We consent," cried all the people; but the Mayor, though he was so generous, was a proud man. "I will not consent to the second condition," he cried angrily.

"But my finish is best expressed by just that abrupt and insignificant monosyllable!" he cried, his solemnity swept away by a mood of extravagant banter. "Now, you know, since we have elected a professional baseball player to the mayor's office, I foresee great possibilities unfolding in municipal affairs.

On his hearthstone, beside his ledger-book, stood the Mayor, looking with a respectful admiration that puzzled himself upon the forlorn creature, who could give no reason why he should not be rather in the Gatesboro' parish stocks than in its chief magistrate's easy-chair. Yet, were the Mayor's sympathetic liking and respectful admiration wholly unaccountable?

The object of the call was to solicit the honor of the Mayor's patronage for the evening's entertainment. How pleased Alice was when Papa engaged a box and paid for it! "I shall bring my little daughter here," he told Signor Currie. "She is much taken by a child whom she saw to-day among your performers." "Mademoiselle Mignon, no doubt," replied the Signor solemnly.

Sir Henry Howorth occasionally breaks out into a story, though he is more frequently a listener to mine. This is one of his that I happen to recall: The Mayor of Richmond gave a dinner, at which a distinguished Frenchman sat next the Mayor's son, and on replying for the guests in imperfect English, observed:

All at once the Mayor's mind had harked back to another moment, not so many days before, when he had stood in this square to make a speech; and at the rushing thought of the great contrast between that moment and this, there rose in him a sense of gratefulness so deep that it took palpable form, and stuck, suffocatingly, in his throat. The square swam before his blinded eyes.

But the practical seafaring men demurred; the little money they had was needed for matters far more urgent than trees. "Very well," was the mayor's decision and little they guessed what the words were destined to mean "I will do it myself." And that year he planted one hundred trees, the first the island had ever seen.

The men with whom he conferred were his political advisers, most of them business men whose names were familiar to John as interested in civic enterprise. While the other reporters were busily engaged in conversation John saw the mayor's secretary signal with a nod of his head for Brennan to step into another room.

"Was it relating to something that you saw, in Dr. Wellesley's house, on the evening on which Mr. Wallingford was found dead in the Mayor's Parlour?" "Yes, sir." "What was it that you saw?" The girl hesitated. Evidently on the verge of a fresh outburst of tears, she compressed her nether lip, looking fixedly at the ledge of the witness-box. "Don't be afraid," said Meeking.

How much has happened to me from that house!" "Yes," said Martha; "I remember you were in service there, and lived in the house when the mayor's parents were alive; how many years ago that is. Bushels of salt have been eaten since then, and people may well be thirsty," and Martha smiled. "The mayor's great dinner-party to-day ought to have been put off, but the news came too late.