One Day Mr. Bizzy got a quiet Tip from another Moral Detective, that the
Man had stayed out until 2 A.M., at a Banquet given to a Militia
Company, so he knew it was Time for him to Act. He lay in Ambush until
the Coast was Clear, and then he went across the Dead-Line and caught
her on the Piazza. She was Surprised to see him.
He told her all the Reports he had heard about her Husband, and said he
was Sorry for her. He wondered if they couldn't get together a few of
the Respectable Men and Women of the Neighborhood, and have a Talk with
the Husband, and try to Pluck him as a Brand from the Burning. She
listened with that Ominous Calm which always precedes the Iowa Cyclone
that takes the Roof off the Court House and moves the Poor Farm into the
Adjoining County. She said she would take her Husband aside and have a
Confidential Chat with him, and if he wanted to be Plucked, then she
would call in the Cyrenius Bizzy Association of Pluckers.
The He-Gossip went Home feeling that he was entitled to a Pedestal right
in between Savonarola and Martin Luther.
When the Man came Home his Wife told him.
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