"Perhaps not," retorted Alick, "but I know some folks in town that will appreciate it. If you knew how much paint you'd got on your face, you'd go and stick your head into a bucket of turpentine."
Sam sneered at Alick's remark, but, though he did have some misgivings as to how his work would be received, was determined to carry out his original plan. Without deigning to look or speak to Alick or Peter, he went into the store, filled his mouth with tacks, put a hammer in his pocket, took another poster, and went across the street to Mr. Flint's church, where he tacked the poster on to the bulletin board over the notice of an oyster party.
The opposition of Mr. Flint to the stage in general, and the club entertainment in particular, did not occur to Sam. His only thought was that the church was a good and conspicuous place for a poster.
Alick Purbeck watched from the doorway when Sam started across the road, and when he saw what his object was called Peter.
"See what that blamed fool's doin'," he said.
"He'll get set on so hard some day that he'll know it," was Peter's comment.
When the poster was secure in its place, Sam walked slowly backward until he reached the middle of the road, where he stopped with his hands in his pockets, his head cocked to one side, and viewed his work with a critical eye. He had been there but a moment when Doctor Jones drove up, and when he saw Sam's peculiar attitude stopped.
"Hello, Sam, what do you see that is so absorbing?" he asked, after waiting a moment for Sam to move or speak. In reply Sam waved his hand proudly toward the poster on the church.
The doctor looked and read.
"Some of your work?" he asked.