Pigworth was a justice of the peace, and was always
dressed in his best clothes, so as to perform his judicial functions at
a moments notice, with dignity and ease. He was tall, thin, baldheaded.
T.J. Childon, landlord of the "National," said hard things, as in duty
bound, of his rival. Among others, that he had kept himself lean by
running so hard for office for the last ten years. To which slander
Pigworth retorted, that Childon was fat (which was true--a fine, plump
figure was Childon's) only because he ate everything in his house, and
left nothing for his customers.
The three newcomers mounted the rotten wooden steps to the stoop. Mr.
Pigworth left his group of auditors, came forward, and received them
with the affability of a retired statesman.
"The landlord?" asked Tiffles.
"I keep the hotel," said Pigworth, with a smile which intimated that he
kept it for amusement rather than profit.
"Room and board for three of us?" asked Tiffles.
"Certainly," said Pigworth, with the air of a man who was doing them a
favor. "Ef you want only one apartment, I can give you the one occupied
last week by the Hon.
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