Warold.
"Tek it back home, Mr. Warold," he said, "and change th' spellin' of th'
worrds on th' address av it. 'T is agin th' rules av th' ixpriss company
as it is. There be no 'o' in th' feenix av th' Interurban Ixpriss
Company. P-h-e-n-i-x is th' improved and official spellin' av th' worrd,
and th' rules av th' company is agin lettin' any feenixes with an 'o' in
thim proceed into th' official business av th' company. And th' same of
that 'Sulphur' worrd. It has been improved and fixed up accordin' to
gineral order number sivin hunderd and noineteen, and th' way t' spell
it is 'S-u-l-f-u-r,' and no other way goes across th' counter av th'
ixpriss company whilst Mike Flannery runs it. And th' ixpriss company
will have none of your 'Armourville,' Mr. Warold. There be no 'u' in th'
worrd as 'tis simplified by th' order av th' prisidint av th'
Interurban."
Mr. Warold looked at the package and then at Flannery, and gasped. He
was slow to anger, and slow in all ways, and it took him fully two
minutes to let Flannery's meaning trickle into his brain. Then he pushed
the package across to Flannery again and laughed.
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