the first tack, but during the remainder of his life the
Superintendent of Public Instruction also contended hotly for that
honour. The rivalry as to who would do the best job, and get it done
most quickly, became intense. Early in the day Harry Weston made the
rounds of the building and announced a fine of one-hundred dollars
for every wrinkle. There were pounded fingers and there were broken
backs, but slowly, steadily and good-naturedly the State-house
carpet was going down. It was a good deal bigger job than they had
anticipated, but that only added zest to the undertaking. The news
of how the State officials were employing themselves had spread
throughout the city, and guards were stationed at every door to keep
out people whose presence would work more harm than good. All
assistance from women was courteously refused. "This is solemn
business," said the Governor, in response to a telephone from some
of the fair sex, "and the introduction of the feminine element might
throw about it a social atmosphere which would result in loss of
time. And then some of the boys might feel called upon to put on
their collars and coats."

Stretch--stretch--stretch, and tack--tack--tack, all morning long it
went on, for the State-house was large--oh, very large. There should
have been a Boswell there to get the good things, for the novelty of
the situation inspired wit even in minds where wit had never glowed
before. Choice bits which at other times would fairly have gone on
official record were now passed almost unnoticed, so great was the
surfeit. Instead of men going out to lunch, lunch came in to them.
Bridget Haggerty, who by reason of her long connection with the
boarding-house across the street was a sort of unofficial official
of the State, came over and made the coffee and sandwiches, all the
while calling down blessings on the head of every mother's son of