On the second Tuesday night of a particularly muddy March some decades ago, the frugal old Yankee sat in a creaky old chair in a dimly lit room in an even creakier town hall and crossed his arms while the outsider spoke his piece.
Mr. Frugal’s little town, some believed, should have more than one police officer, and the outsider was there to tell them why.
“Welp,” he began, “the next town over, about the same size as yours, has three police officers. And up in North Conway, they have 12,” the outsider asserted, putting emphasis on the “12.”
Mr.![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
↧