then he ran it still farther and said it again, and more vigorously, and
turned back to Mr. Warold. He shook his head and pushed the package
across to Mr. Warold.

"Tek it back home, Mr. Warold," he said, "and change th' spellin' of th'
worrds on th' address av it. 'T is agin th' rules av th' ixpriss company
as it is. There be no 'o' in th' feenix av th' Interurban Ixpriss
Company. P-h-e-n-i-x is th' improved and official spellin' av th' worrd,
and th' rules av th' company is agin lettin' any feenixes with an 'o' in
thim proceed into th' official business av th' company. And th' same of
that 'Sulphur' worrd. It has been improved and fixed up accordin' to
gineral order number sivin hunderd and noineteen, and th' way t' spell
it is 'S-u-l-f-u-r,' and no other way goes across th' counter av th'
ixpriss company whilst Mike Flannery runs it. And th' ixpriss company
will have none of your 'Armourville,' Mr. Warold. There be no 'u' in th'
worrd as 'tis simplified by th' order av th' prisidint av th'
Interurban."

Mr. Warold looked at the package and then at Flannery, and gasped. He
was slow to anger, and slow in all ways, and it took him fully two
minutes to let Flannery's meaning trickle into his brain. Then he pushed
the package across to Flannery again and laughed.

"That is all right," he said. "I read all about the simplified spelling
in the papers, and if your company wants to adopt it, it is none of my
business, but this has nothing to do with that. This is the name of a
company, and the name of a town, and companies and towns have a right to
spell their names as they choose. That--why, everybody knows that!"

"Sure they have th' right," admitted Flannery pleasantly, but pushing