"She didn't
deserve it. Consarn it, a woman's always doin' something to spoil
things."
And so he fared forth with his badges and stars, bent on duty, but not
accomplishment. All the town soon knew that he was following a clew, but
all the town was at sea concerning its character, origin, and
plausibility. A dozen persons saw him stop young Mrs. Perkins in front
of Lamson's store, and the same spectators saw his feathers droop as she
let loose her wrath upon his head and went away with her nose in the air
and her cheeks far more scarlet than when Boreas kissed them, and all in
response to a single remark volunteered by the faithful detective. He
entered Lamson's store a moment later, singularly abashed and red in the
face.
"Doggone," he observed, seeing that an explanation was expected, "she
might 'a' knowed I was only foolin'."
A few minutes later he had Alf Reesling, the town sot, in a far corner
of the store talking to him in a most peremptory fashion. It may be well
to mention that Alf had so far forgotten himself as to laugh at the
marshal's temporary discomfiture at the hands of Mrs. Perkins.
"Alf, have you been havin' another baby up to your house without lettin'
me know?" demanded Anderson firmly.
"Anderson," replied Alf, maudlin tears starting in his eyes, "it's not
kind of you to rake up my feelin's like this.
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