Carmel smiled. She knew why George had called. It was the Handsomest-Man contest.... She considered that farce, for it was a farce--a makeshift to gain circulation, a trick played by herself with her tongue in her cheek.... It had quickened the interest of Gibeon, however. Gibeon could be made excited over an absurd voting to decide upon its handsomest man! It could discuss the thing, gossip about it, lay small wagers. More than one wife, feeling bound by self-esteem, had entered her husband and deposited votes in his name. This, Carmel judged, was an effort on the part of these women to vindicate their own judgment; to elevate themselves in their own esteem; to cry up their own possessions. Some there were, of course, who laughed, who saw the absurdity of it, but more remained to take it with utmost sincerity, and of these George Bogardus, undertaker _de luxe_, was perhaps the most sincere. George neglected his business to pursue votes. But then, so did Lancelot Bangs!... Single men both, the mainstay of local haberdashers! The contest had now arrived at a point where even admiring wives were discouraged and hoped only to have a husband who ran third--for Bogardus and Bangs seemed sure to outdistance the field. Not only did these young men vie with each other in the pursuit of votes, but in the purchase of apparel. If Bogardus imported a yellow silk necktie made more beautiful by inch-broad polka dots of green, Bangs answered the challenge with patent-leather shoes with gray cloth tops cross-hatched with mauve.... Each spent his substance in riotous garments, and neither neglected, at the busy hour in the post office, to take up his station before the door, full in the public eye, to enable the populace to scrutinize and to admire. It was a campaign such as no political election ever had brought to Gibeon. Yesterday, Carmel learned from Tubal, it had come to personal conflict. As the pair of candidates occupied their stations, each on his side of the post-office door, Bogardus had spoken in a manner highly derogatory of a new hat displayed by his rival for the first time. It was a hat of Leghorn straw, wide and floppy of brim. The under side of this brim was lined with green cloth, either for decorative purposes or to soften the light reflected to the eyes. About the crown was folded a scarf, and the colors in this scarf were such as to detain the eye even as the sound of an ambulance gong takes possession of the ear. It was a master stroke. It quite upset Bogardus to the extent that he forgot the amenities and, _sotto voce_, asked the world to tell him where Lancelot Bangs got hold of the merry-go-round he was wearing on his head. “All it needs, by Jove!” said George in his best British manner, “to make a feller know it’s a merry-go-round is to have Lance’s brain start playin’ a hurdy-gurdy tune. Eh? What?”