It was the right kind of document too. It began--"Whereas in the
bounty of providence the earth putteth forth her luscious fruits and
her vineyards for the delight and enjoyment of mankind--" It made you
thirsty just to read it. Any man who read that petition over was wild
to get to the Rats' Cooler.

When it was all signed up they had nearly three thousand names on it.

Then Nivens, the lawyer, and Mr. Gingham (as a provincial official)
took it down to the county town, and by three o'clock that afternoon
the news had gone out from the long distance telephone office that
Smith's license was renewed for three years.

Rejoicings! Well, I should think so! Everybody was down wanting to
shake hands with Mr. Smith. They told him that he had done more to
boom Mariposa than any ten men in town. Some of them said he ought to
run for the town council, and others wanted to make him the
Conservative candidate for the next Dominion election. The caff was a
mere babel of voices, and even the Rats' Cooler was almost floated
away from its moorings.

And in the middle of it all, Mr. Smith found time to say to Billy,
the desk clerk: "Take the cash registers out of the caff and the
Rats' Cooler and start counting up the books."

And Billy said: "Will I write the letters for the palms and the
tables and the stuff to go back?"

And Mr. Smith said: "Get 'em written right away."