Flannery came back with a few packages and a couple of the long official
envelopes. He dumped the packages on his counter and tore open the first
of the envelopes. It was a mimeograph circular and had that benzine odor
that Flannery had come to associate with trouble, for it meant a new
rule that he must follow, or a change of rates that he must memorize,
under penalty of dismissal. All orders were given under penalty of
dismissal, and Flannery had so many rules and regulations under his red
hair that each day he wondered whether he would still be the Westcote
agent at the end of the next.

As he read his forehead wrinkled.

"'Gineral Order Number Sivin Hundred an' noineteen,'" he read slowly.
"And is it possible 'tis only th' sivin hundred an' noineteenth of thim
I have been gettin'? I w'u'd have said 't was th' forty-sivinth thousand
gineral order I have had t' learn and memorize. Wheniver th' prisidint,
or th' vice-prisidint, or th' manager, or th' janitor, or th' office-boy
at th' head office has nawthin' else t' do they be thinkin' up a new
gineral order t' sind t' Flannery. 'What's th' news of th' day?' says
th' prisidint. 'Nawthin' doin',' says th' janitor. 'Then wake up and
sind Flannery a gineral order t' learn th' Declaration av Indepindince
by hearrt,' says th' prisidint. 'Mebby he do be gittin' lazy!' 'And
shall I add on th' Constitution av th' United States?' says th' janitor.
'Sure!' says th' prisidint, ''t will do Flannery no harm t' be busy.'"

He held the paper out at arm's length and shook his head at it, and then
slapped it down on the counter and gave it his attention.

"'To all imployees av th' Interurban Ixpriss Company,'" he read. "'On
an' after this date all imployees av this company will use, in their