“‘Pho-e-nix,’” he read slowly.  “That do be a queer sort av a worrd, Mr. Warold.  ‘Pho-e-nix!’ Is it a man’s name, I dunno?”

“Feenix,” pronounced Mr. Warold, grinning.

Flannery was writing carefully with his tongue clasped firmly between his teeth, but he stopped and looked up.

“‘T is an odd way t’ spell a worrd av that same pronownciation,” he said, and then, suddenly, he laid down his pen and turned to the list of three hundred words that was pasted beside his desk.

“Oh, ho!” he exclaimed, when he had run his finger down the list, and then he ran it still farther and said it again, and more vigorously, and turned back to Mr. Warold.  He shook his head and pushed the package across to Mr. Warold.

“Tek it back home, Mr. Warold,” he said, “and change th’ spellin’ of th’ worrds on th’ address av it.  ‘T is agin th’ rules av th’ ixpriss company as it is.  There be no ‘o’ in th’ feenix av th’ Interurban Ixpriss Company.  P-h-e-n-i-x is th’ improved and official spellin’ av th’ worrd, and th’ rules av th’ company is agin lettin’ any feenixes with an ‘o’ in thim proceed into th’ official business av th’ company.  And th’ same of that ‘Sulphur’ worrd.  It has been improved and fixed up accordin’ to gineral order number sivin hunderd and noineteen, and th’ way t’ spell it is ‘S-u-l-f-u-r,’ and no other way goes across th’ counter av th’ ixpriss company whilst Mike Flannery runs it.  And th’ ixpriss company will have none of your ‘Armourville,’ Mr. Warold.  There be no ‘u’ in th’ worrd as ‘tis simplified by th’ order av th’ prisidint av th’ Interurban.”

Mr. Warold looked at the package and then at Flannery, and gasped.  He was slow to anger, and slow in all ways, and it took him fully two minutes to let Flannery’s meaning trickle into his brain.  Then he pushed the package across to Flannery again and laughed.

“That is all right,” he said.  “I read all about the simplified spelling in the papers, and if your company wants to adopt it, it is none of my business, but this has nothing to do with that.  This is the name of a company, and the name of a town, and companies and towns have a right to spell their names as they choose.  That—­why, everybody knows that!”

“Sure they have th’ right,” admitted Flannery pleasantly, but pushing the package slowly toward Mr. Warold; “sure they have!  But not in th’ ixpriss office av th’ Interurban.  ‘T is agin th’ rules t’ spell any feenixes with an ‘o’ in th’ ixpriss office, or any sulphurs with a ‘ph,’ or any armours with a ‘u.’  Thim spellin’s and two hunderd an’ ninety-sivin more are agin th’ rules, and can’t go.  Packages that has thim on can’t go.  Nawthin’ that has thim in thim or on thim or about thim can’t go.  Gineral order number sivin—­”

“Look here,” said Mr. Warold slowly.  “I tell you, Flannery, that those words are the names of a company—­”

“An’ I tell ye,” said Flannery, holding the package away from him with a firm hand, “that rules is rules, and gineral orders is worse than rules, an’ thim spellin’s can’t go.”