Calvin," Morrison murmured in the old man's ear. "We all seem to have our
jobs cut out for us--and I can't tend to mine in an understanding way till
you have attended to yours."

The veteran saluted as smartly as had the soldier and trudged away on the
heels of Sweetsir.

"Ain't there any way of your making that infernal old tin soldier up at
the State House lay his paws off our paving crew?" asked the
superintendent.

"Hush, Baldwin!" chided the mayor, unruffled, speaking indulgently. "We
seem to have a new war on the board! Have you forgotten, after all that
has been happening in this world, that in time of war we must sacrifice
public improvements and private enterprises? Go on and do your best with
the paving."

"Hell is paved with good intentions, but I can't put 'em down on McNamee
Avenue."

"Of course not, Baldwin! That would be using war material that will be
urgently needed, if I'm any judge of these times."

"How's that, Mister Mayor?"

"Why, the hell architects seem to be planning an extension of the
premises," drawled Morrison.