A Woman who had done nothing to Deserve it was the Wife of a Joiner. He
was the K.G. of one Benevolent Order and the Worshipful High Guy of
something else, and the Senior Warden of the Sons of Patoosh, and a lot
more that she couldn't keep track of.

When he got on all of his Pins he had Sousa put away.

Night after Night he was off to a Hall up a Dark Stairway to land some
Unfortunate into the Blue Lodge or the Commandery or else Over the Hot
Sands.

He carried at least twenty Rituals in his Head, and his Hands were all
twisted out of Shape from giving so many different Grips.

In the Morning when he came out of the House he usually found some one
waiting on the Door-Step to give him the Sign of Distress and work the
fraternal Pan-Handle on him. He subscribed for the Magazines that were
full of these sparkling Chapter Reports, and after that, if he had not
spent all his money going to Conclaves and Grand Lodge Meetings, he paid
Dues and Assessments and bought Uniforms. He had one Suit in particular,
with Frogs and Cords and Gold Braid strung around over the Front of it,
and then a Helmet with about a Bushel of Red Feathers. When he got into
this Rig and strapped on his Jeweled Sword he wouldn't have traded
Places with Nelson A. Miles.

His Wife often said that he ought not to leave her and take up with a
Goat, and that she could use on Groceries some of the Coin that he was
devoting to Velvet Regalia and Emblematic Watch-Charms, but he always