The Boss of Little Arcady | Page 3

of their fellow-men, who rule our cities with an iron
hand but take care to keep the hand in a velvet glove,--a Boss that is
diplomatic, yet an autocrat."
That careless use of the term "Boss" was afterward seen to be
unfortunate for Solon. They remembered it against him.
"That's right," said Westley Keyts. "Let's be diplomatic with him."
"How would you begin, Westley, if you don't mind telling us?" Solon
had already begun to shape a scheme of his own.
"Why," answered Westley, looking very earnest, "just go up to him in a
quiet, refined manner--no blustering, understand--and say in a low tone,
kind of off-hand but serious, 'Now, look a' here, Potts, old boy, let's talk
this thing over like a couple of gentlemen had ought to.' 'Well, all right,'
says Potts, 'that's fair--I couldn't refuse that as from one gentleman to
another gentleman.' Well, then, say to him, 'Now, Potts, you know as
well as any man in this town that you're an all-round no-good--you're a
human Not--and a darn scalawag into the bargain. So what's the use?
Will you go, or won't you?' Then if he'd begin to hem and haw and try
to put it off with one thing or another, why, just hint in a roundabout
way--perfectly genteel, you understand--that there'd be doings with a
kittle of tar and feathers that same night at eight-thirty sharp, rain or
shine, with a free ride right afterward to the town line and mebbe a bit
beyond, without no cushions. Up about the Narrows would be a good
place to say farewell," he concluded thoughtfully.
We had listened patiently enough, but this was too summary. Westley
Keyts is our butcher, a good, honest, energetic, downright business man
with a square forehead and a blunt jaw and red hair that bristles with
challenges. But he seems compelled to say too nearly what he means to
render him useful in negotiations requiring any considerable finesse.
"We were speaking, Westley, of the gentle functions of diplomacy,"

remarked Solon, cuttingly. "Of course, we could waylay Potts and kill
him with one of your cleavers and have his noble head stuffed and
mounted to hang up over Barney Skeyhan's bar, but it wouldn't be
subtle--it would not be what the newspapers call 'a triumph of
diplomacy'! And then, again, reports of it might be carried to other
towns, and talk would be caused."
"Now, say," retorted Westley, somewhat abashed, "I was thinking I
answered all that by winding up the way like I did, asking him,--not
mad-like, you understand,--'Now will you go or won't you?' just like
that. All I can say is, if that ain't diplomacy, then I don't know what in
Time diplomacy is!"
I think we conceded this, in silence, be it understood, for Westley is
respected. But we looked to Solon for a more tenuous subtlety. Nor did
he fail us. Two days later Potts upon the public street actually
announced his early departure from Little Arcady.
To know how pleasing an excitement this created one should know
more about Potts. It will have been inferred that he was objectionable.
For the fact, he was objectionable in every way: as a human being, a
man, a citizen, a member of the Slocum County bar, and a veteran of
our late civil conflict. He was shiftless, untidy, a borrower, a pompous
braggart, a trouble-maker, forever driving some poor devil into
senseless litigation. Moreover, he was blithely unscrupulous in his
dealings with the Court, his clients, his brother-attorneys, and his
fellow-men at large. When I add that he was given to spells of hard
drinking, during which he became obnoxious beyond the wildest
possible dreams of that quality, it will be seen that we of Little Arcady
were not without reason for wishing him away.
He had drifted casually in upon us after the war, accompanied
somewhat elegantly by one John Randolph Clement Tuckerman, an
ex-slave. He came with much talk of his regiment,--a fat-cheeked,
florid man of forty-five or so, with shifty blue eyes and an address
moderately insinuating. Very tall he was, and so erect that he seemed to
lean a little backward. This physical trait, combining with a fancy for
referring to himself freely as "an upright citizen of this reunited and

glorious republic, sir!" had speedily made him known as "Upright"
Potts. He was of a slender build and a bony frame, except in front. His
long, single-breasted frock-coat hung loosely enough about his
shoulders, yet buttoned tightly over a stomach that was so incongruous
as to seem artificial. The sleeves of the coat were glossy from much
desk rubbing, and its front advertised a rather inattentive behavior at
table. The Colonel's dress was completed by drab overgaiters and
poorly draped trousers of the same once-delicate hue. Upon