lunatics in the lockup tonight.

"It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come
out of this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing
outside looking in at the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess.
Well, somebody saw him and yelled, 'There's another of those
damned Puritans!' and before he could get away five of them had
jumped on him and beaten him to death. He deserved it, and it's a
good joke on him that they killed him for being a Puritan."

Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed
into the room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of
Priscilla Kennicott but with the words of the medicine man she
scourged them.

"A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan
gentlemen of God and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as
a good joke? Well, with the highest respect to Professor Doctor
Miles Standish, the Puritan Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor
Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. Frank Crane--BLAA!"

She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their
feet.

She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An
overdose of the medicine had been too much for her weak
heart.

"Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You
will miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that