"
When the tellers had attended to their duty the Moderator said, "Those
opposed will now rise and be counted."
The vote was soon announced. In favor of accepting the donation, three
hundred and one; opposed, fifty-eight.
"It's a vote," declared the Moderator.
A dozen matters of minor importance were quickly disposed of, and but
one remained upon the warrant, with the exception of the election of
town officers. Little squads of the members were now gathered together
talking over the most important question of the meeting, which was the
election of town officers for the ensuing year. The last item on the
warrant read: "Will the town appropriate money to buy a new hearse?"
Mr. Butterfield had evidently been holding himself in reserve, for he
was on his feet in an instant, and he secured the eye of the Moderator
and the floor.
"Mister Moderator," began Mr. Butterfield, "I desire to raise my voice
agin this biznez of unnecessary and unexampled extravagance. What do we
want of a new hearse? Those who are dead and in the cemetery don't find
any fault with the one we've got, and those who are livin' have no
present use for it, and why should they complain? I know what this
means.
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