but "was going to have some," joined the "Jean-ah Poquelin" war. The
haunted property would be such a capital site for a market-house! They
sent a deputation to the old mansion to ask its occupant to sell. The
deputation never got beyond the chained gate and a very barren interview
with the African mute. The President of the Board was then empowered
(for he had studied French in Pennsylvania and was considered qualified)
to call and persuade M. Poquelin to subscribe to the company's stock;
but--

"Fact is, gentlemen," he said at the next meeting, "it would take us at
least twelve months to make Mr. Pokaleen understand the rather original
features of our system, and he wouldn't subscribe when we'd done;
besides, the only way to see him is to stop him on the street."

There was a great laugh from the Board; they couldn't help it. "Better
meet a bear robbed of her whelps," said one.

"You're mistaken as to that," said the President. "I did meet him, and
stopped him, and found him quite polite. But I could get no satisfaction
from him; the fellow wouldn't talk in French, and when I spoke in
English he hoisted his old shoulders up, and gave the same answer to
every thing I said."

"And that was--?" asked one or two, impatient of the pause.

"That it 'don't worse w'ile?'"

One of the Board said: "Mr. President, this market-house project, as I
take it, is not altogether a selfish one; the community is to be
benefited by it. We may feel that we are working in the public interest