This was another thing about Herman’s place that Newbern understood in time.  When he had begun business some dozen years before, and it was known that Minna came downstairs from their living rooms above the saloon and helped to serve his patrons, the scandal was high.  It was supposed that only a woman without character could, for any purpose whatever, enter a saloon.  But Herman had made it plain that into the sort of saloon he conducted any woman, however exalted, could freely enter.  If they chose not to, that was their affair.  And Minna had in time recovered a reputation so nearly lost at first news of her service here.

Herman, indeed, ran a place of distinction, or at least of tone.  He did sell the stronger drinks, it is true, but he sold them judiciously, and much preferred to sell the milder ones.  He knew his patrons, and would stubbornly not sell drink, even beer or wine, to one he suspected of abusing the stuff.  As for rowdyism, it was known far and wide about Newbern that if you wanted to get thrown out of Herman’s quick you had only to start some rough stuff, or even talk raw.  It was said he juggled you out the door like you were an empty beer keg.  Down by the riverside was another saloon for that sort of thing, kept by Pegleg McCarron, who would sell whisky to any one that could buy, liked rough stuff and with his crutch would participate in it.

When Herman decided that a customer was spending too much money for drink, that customer had to go to Pegleg’s if he bought more.  And now the mayor at the little table connived at a flagrant breach of the law he had sworn to uphold, quaffing beer from his mug and melding a hundred aces as casually as if it were a week-day.

The other men at the little tables were also of the substantial citizenry of Newbern, including the postmaster, the editor of the Advance, and Rapp, Senior, of Rapp Brothers, Jewellery.  The last two were arguing politics and the country’s welfare.  Rapp, Senior, believed and said that the country was going to the dogs, because the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer.  The editor of the Advance disputed this, and the postmaster intervened to ask if Rapp, Senior, had seen what our exports of wheat and cotton were lately.  Rapp, Senior, said he didn’t care anything about that—­it was the interests he was down on.  Herman Vielhaber, melding eighty kings, said it was a good rich-man’s country, but also a good poor-man’s country, because where could you find one half as good—­not in all Europe—­and he now laid down forty jacks, which he huskily called “yacks.”

Dave Cowan greeted the company and seated himself at a vacant table.

“Pull up a chair, Buzzer, and we’ll drink to the life force—­old electricity or something.”

“Yes, sir,” said Wilbur, and seated himself.

Minna left the pinochle game to attend upon them.  She was plump and pink-faced, with thick yellow hair neatly done.  A broad white apron protected her dress of light blue.