here tew-morrer on his way tew Boston, an' I want tew git
that ere name painted out and his'n put in its place. Are yer
up tew it, and what 'ud the job tax me?" As the publican
spoke he pointed at the lettering below the weather-beaten
portrait of George the Third, which served as the signboard
of the tavern.

"Get me some colours, and bide till I leave these horses at
the smith's, and I'll do it for nothing," said Charles, smiling;
and ten minutes later, sitting on a barrel set in a cart, he was
doing his share toward the obliteration of kinghood and the
substitution of a comparatively unknown hero.

"'T is good luck that they both is called George," remarked
the tavern-keeper; "fer yer've only got tew paint out the
'King' an' put in a 'Gen.' in the first part, which saves
trouble right tew begin on."

Charles smilingly adopted the suggestion, and then measured
off "the III." "'T is a long name to get into such
space," he said.

"Scant it is," assented the publican. "I'll tell yer what.
Jist leave the 'the' an' paint in 'good' after it. That'll
make it read slick." Pleased with this solution of the difficulty,
the hotel-keeper retired to the "public," with a parting
invitation to the painter to drink something for his
trouble.

While Charles was doing the additional work, he was interrupted