“I could,” said Dick, “but I don’t know whether it would do any good. Mulligan is obstinate. I am sure I could have persuaded him long ago to close every house he owns in Sabinsport and willingly have stood his losses if it had not been for Mrs. Katcham. So long as she continues in the field, he will keep everything open to spite her.”
“I don’t wonder,” said the General, sympathetically. “Same here. She’s been trying to force me to appoint a mother for every fifty boys. Let ’em live in the camp. Thinks I’m in league with the liquor interests because I refuse—told me so to my face. You can’t do anything with such women. But you must stop the liquor selling there some way unless you want me to appeal to Washington.”
Dick had come back to town anxious and disheartened. “It’s a nice situation, and Christmas only two days away.” He was sitting perplexed and weary before his fire, when who should come in but Mulligan himself.
“Can you give me a few minutes, Reverend?” he called, in his hearty voice.
Dick stared in amazement. “Of course,” he said. “Come in.” He helped him with his coat, stirred the fire, offered him a cigar, and sat down.
“See here, Dick,” Mulligan began. “I wouldn’t come telling anybody in this town I’m ashamed of myself but you—I am. That thing last night was my fault. If I’d ever given the boys round town a hint that they weren’t to sell booze to soldiers, they’d never done it, uniform or no uniform; but I never batted an eye at ’em. I’ve known all along they got stuff whenever they wanted it. I never tipped the police not to see things, but I never tipped ’em to see ’em, and that’s what they was waitin’ for. If it hadn’t been for that Katcham woman, I’d ’a’ done it. I’m that mean I couldn’t stand it to see her get her way. Now, she’s gettin’ up a mass meetin’ for Christmas—think of that, a mass meetin’ on Christmas. Well, I’m goin’ to beat her to it.
“I control ten saloons in this town—all except the pikers—I’m closing every blamed one of them to-day—canceled the leases. I’ll turn out every doggone man that don’t shut down. And I’m warnin’ the little fellows that they’ve got to follow suit. They’re howling, but let ’em. I have told them I’d treat them square, pay them for six months. They know me. Let them sue if they want to. They know that I can prove that they’ve been selling to the boys. There’s not a jury in the State that would give them damages. The bar at Beefsteak Jim’s is closed now. I’m going to make this town clean, so clean that the boys can play dominoes without being laughed at.
“And I’ve seen the Chief. I’ve told him if his men so much as wink at a glass of beer sold to a soldier, I’ll fire him. I’ve told him he’s to run out any shady woman that shows her bleached head in this burg, and put the camp onto any boy that tries to sneak into any mischief. I’m goin’ to make this town clean, Dick, so clean all these doggone camp towns around the country that are rolling up their eyes at Sabinsport’s wickedness and calling attention to how good they are and rejoicing that we’ve got it in the neck, will sing another song. I’ll show them. And what tickles me most is getting ahead of the Katcham woman. She’s not going to spoil our Christmas by her mass meetin’. When the town gets up to-morrow morning, they will find that things are shut down. I have seen to it that it gets out. Everybody will know without waiting for the Argus, and you ought to see what’s going in the Argus to-morrow night. I’m letting it be known that the landlords in this town made a voluntary agreement—note that, Reverend, voluntary agreement, for the good of the army and the good of Sabinsport, not to sell another glass of beer as long as this war lasts. Don’t that sound noble? Won’t that shut up those neighborhoods in the State that are taking pains to say how depraved this burg is?
“I don’t want you to tell anybody I had a hand in this, Reverend. Just tellin’ you because I care about what you think, and because I want you to know the straight goods. It’s goin’ to be done, and so you can stop worryin’. That’s got me more than once—see you lookin’ so anxious. And then there’s Jack. I hate to have him know over there in France what happened Saturday night. I’m sending him the paper and along with it a copy of the agreement. That’s all. I’m not going to have his town disgraced again. So long, Reverend, and get some sleep. You need it.”
There were tears in Dick’s eyes as he wrung Mulligan’s hand. “You better believe I’ll sleep,” he said. “Now, we’ll have our festival, and I’m counting on your being there. The General and his staff are coming, and we’ll have a surprise which couldn’t have been sprung if it hadn’t been for what you’ve done. You’ve saved Sabinsport more than once, Mulligan, but you never did it so good a turn as to-day.”