and the decorated post took on a bizarre and slouchy resemblance to its
decorator.

He went back to the chaise and found a nickel alarm-clock in the box. He
wound this up carefully and propped it on a rail of the fence near the
clothing.

Before he could escape from the vicinity of the exhibit and get into
his chaise a wagon came rattling around the bend of the road. There were
firkins and jars in the rear of this wagon and the driver was plainly a
farmer-man.

He pulled up short and then saluted the old gentleman with a stab of
forefinger at his hat-brim.

"Any trouble, Judge?" he inquired, affably.

"None at all," replied the old gentleman, edging away from the fully
garbed fence-post.

"Airing 'em out, hey?" A jab of the forefinger toward the garments.

"No, leaving them out."

All at once the old gentleman appeared to remember something else. He
took off his hat and produced a placard. He straightened it and stuck it
into a crack in a fence-rail. Its legend was "Help Yourself."

"You're giving them clothes away, are you, Judge Peterson?"