TIBERIUS SMITH
they could hear the church-bells in old New England. They kicked, and kicked hard, but Tib was like the granite of his native Vermont, and at last Ruddy Mac concluded: 'It's blessed tough, boys, but I reckon it's right, and if I see any man working on Sunday I shall feel like smashing him. Of course, I wouldn't,' he hastened to add, as Tib elevated his brows in surprise and reached for the demerit book. 'Of course I wouldn't, but I might feel like it. No harm in that, is there, Mr. Smith?'
"‘Well, I don't know,' mused Tib, still retaining the fatal book. 'Of course, it isn't good form to encourage violent thoughts. But you were honest in confessing, and we'll let it go this time. Billy, give Mr. Mac a stamp for extra honesty.'
"Then what might seem to be a flaw in the system was shown up. And yet it wasn't a flaw. Tib's system was all correct, but the human system in Red Ant hadn't been chastened sufficiently. On Mac's birthday—a genuine one—the crowd got permission to celebrate all night, providing none was unfit for work on the morrow. During the festivities Slouchy Williams decoyed all of those who had saved up rewards of merit into a poker game and cleaned out the lot. At the wind-up they wagered their stamps. When Tib faced the sad-eyed losers next day he docked them for two days' stamps, while Williams was denuded for a week.
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