Now the handsome young man from Paw-paw was the last person to select for addressing in such a tone as Lysander Totts had taken. "I beg yore pardon, suh?" he remarked, so politely that I became filled with apprehension. Miss Appleby was gazing at him with all her eyes. "What do you think of him?" she whispered to me. I suppose that indignation at his unwarrantable treatment of me in the car rendered me imprudent. "My dear Miss Appleby," I said to her, "my dear Gertrude, he is as beautiful as the day, as ignorant as a Socialist, and as dishonest as a plumber." "How dare you speak of my husband so?" she replied. "We were married this morning. That's all we came for to your silly convention. Good-by." And rising, she swept out of the room. But her exit was unobserved. The great West was still rattling on its blackboards, Maverick and Cottsill were scowling darkly at Totts. Totts was pointing one finger at coat-house, and Willows was smiling steadily at Totts, in a manner that now convinced me we were approaching the edge of something quite particular. Nor did even the bridegroom know that his bride had left us. "I beg yore pardon, suh?" he repeated. "Coat-house. What's that?" said Totts. "It is whah they'd have you, suh, if they caught you teachin' any o' those railroad accidents o' yore's to the young." "Yes, indeed; yes, indeed!" cried Maverick and Cottsill, eagerly. Totts loudly blew his nose. "It shall remain court-house in the dictionary of scholars," he remarked. Willows ran his eye up and down Totts' list, and then up and down Totts. "Schooling," he softly returned, "has done powerful little for the Amurrican who sails to Yurrup and puts surrup on his hot cakes." "Yes, indeed; yes, indeed!" said Cottsill and Maverick again. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" pleaded Kibosh, "do not quarrel." "Kwawrul, you mean," smiled Jesse Willows. "It's immawrul to kwawrul in Surracuse, Noo Yorruk." Totts now began to show signs of jumping up and down. "Have we adopted phonetic spelling, or have we not?" he roared. "Not yore kind," said Willows. "Yore!" echoed Totts. "Listen to that dialect!" And he blew his noise more loudly. "Hup, hup," began Egghorn; but his voice stuck as usual. "You should get a chauffeur," said Cottsill, severely, to him. "Hup, hup. Compromise," finished Egghorn. "Ah, yes, gentlemen, there we have it!" said Kibosh, earnestly. "Compromise is progress. Let us all accept one another. Thus the cause will profit." His exhortation produced a brief, a very brief, lull. Each looked at the neighboring blackboards in silence; and Kibosh, doubtless with the idea of harmony, set the organ once more to playing, "My spelling 'tis of thee," while the rattling West continued to create a new language behind us. At length Cottsill sighed. "Very well," he said, "for the sake of anywheres, I'll vote for surrup." "That's wise, that's kind, that's good," said Kibosh; and he beat one hand gently on the table.