Mr. Kinney, presiding, held in his hand, in lieu of a gavel, and
considered much more impressive, a Civil War relic known as a "horse-
pistol." He rapped loudly for order. "All Friends of the Ace will
take their seats!" he said sharply. "I'm president of the F. O. T. A.
now, George Minafer, and don't you forget it! You and Charlie Johnson
sit down, because I was elected perfectly fair, and we're goin' to
hold a meeting here."

"Oh, you are, are you?" said George skeptically.

Charlie Johnson thought to mollify him. "Well, didn't we call this
meeting just especially because you told us to? You said yourself we
ought to have a kind of celebration because you've got back to town,
George, and that's what we're here for now, and everything. What do
you care about being president? All it amounts to is just calling the
roll and--"

The president de facto hammered the table. "This meeting will now
proceed to--"

"No, it won't," said George, and he advanced to the desk, laughing
contemptuously. "Get off that platform."

"This meeting will come to order!" Mr. Kinney commanded fiercely.

"You put down that gavel," said George. "Whose is it, I'd like to
know? It belongs to my grandfather, and you quit hammering it that
way or you'll break it, and I'll have to knock your head off."