y.

"But the fishing?" cried Nan curiously.

"Ah, yes. I am coming to that," said her mother. "The fishing, to be
sure! Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody we know, and
some we only know by hearsay, and find out if there isn't a niche for
Papa Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury."

"So we can!" cried Nan, clapping her hands.

"I am afraid there is general depression in my line of business
everywhere," suggested Mr. Sherwood. "For some years the manufacturers
have been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. And the recent
attempt to help the cotton growers by boosting the price of raw cotton
will come near to ruining the mills and mill workers. It is always
so. In an attempt to benefit one class of the people another class is
injured."

"Now, never mind politics, sir!" cried his little wife. "We poor, weak
women aren't supposed to understand such things. Only when Nan and I get
the vote, and all the other millions of women and girls, we will have no
class legislation. 'The greatest good for the greatest number' will be
our motto."

Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that very
statement was the root of all class legislation. He knew his wife's
particular ideas were good, however, her general political panacea was
rather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully as she went on:

"Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to go away
from here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have had good offers for
it."

"True," admitted Mr. Sherwood.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and Papa
Sherwood did not hear the sigh.

"I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He is quite
prominent in business there," pursued Mrs. Sherwood. "We might find a
footing in Memphis."

Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the enervating
climate of the Southern river city would never do for his wife. Change
of climate might benefit her greatly; the doctors had all said so of
late; but not that change.

"Then," continued Nan's mother, "there is your brother, Henry, up in
Michigan."

"Oh! I remember Uncle Henry," cried Nan. "Such a big, big man!"

"With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey," her
mother quickly added. "And your Aunt Kate is a very nice woman. Your
uncle has lumber interests. He might find something for your father
there."

"I'll write to Hen, Jessie," Mr. Sherwood said decisivel