: The Boss of Little Arcady by Wilson Harry Leon O Neill Rose Cecil Illustrator - United States Social life and customs Fiction; Villages Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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CHAPTER

"A chestin' out his chest lahk a ole ma'ash frawg"

"And yet I have been pestered by cheap flings at my personal bearing"

"We might get him to make a barrel of it for the Sunday-school picnic"

"That will do," I said severely. "Remember there is a gentleman present"

The Book of COLONEL POTTS

HOW THE BOSS WON HIS TITLE

Looking back to that time from a happier present, I am filled by a genuine awe of J. Rodney Potts. Reflecting upon those benign ends which the gods chose to make him serve, I can but marvel how lightly each of us may meet and scorn a casual Potts, unrecking his gracious and predestined office in the play of Fate.

Of the present--to me--supreme drama of the Little Country, I can only say that the gods had selected their agent with a cunning so flawless that suspicion of his portents could not well have been aroused in one lacking discernment like unto the gods' very own. So trivially, so utterly, so pitiably casual, to eyes of the flesh, was this Potts of Little Arcady, from his immortal soul to the least item of his inferior raiment!

Thus craftily are we fooled by the Lords of Destiny, whose caprice it is to affect remoteness from us and a lofty unconcern for our poor little doings.

But Little Arcady knows that Solon is loyal to its welfare--knows that he is fit to wield the mightiest lever of Civilization in its behalf on Wednesday of each week.

We know now, moreover, that an undercurrent of circumstance existed which did not even ripple the surface of that apparently facetious brutality hurled at J. Rodney Potts.

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