e, if
one could be--even greater. Because, you see, poor papa had to work for
money, not for love of his art. I've heard him say so, time and time
again. When he wanted to paint great pictures he had to paint mean
little ones, such as common persons liked and would buy. 'Pot boilers'
he called them, because they brought the cash, the 'fuel,' to keep the
'pot' a-boiling. Course, we had to have clothes and a house and things
to eat, and nobody to buy them except papa darling. Maybe, up in heaven,
he is painting his 'great picture' now. What do you suppose?" asked
Katharine, gazing through the slats at the blue sky overhead.

"I d-d-don't know much about heaven. I never had time to think.
T-t-t-th-there's always so much doin'," answered Monty. Yet, following
Katharine's rapturous gaze skyward, his own blue eyes had filled with
dreamy speculation, and he began to picture to himself the wonders of
that world beyond Marsden village which he meant sometime to find.

"B-b-but I'll tell you somethin', Katy Maitland. I'm not goin' to stay
here always. I'm goin' to be a big man and--and do things," he observed,
after a prolonged meditation.

"How big? What things?"

"Oh! Big as they g-g-grow. Big as the postmaster. B-b-big as
Sq-Sq-Squ-Squire Petti--john. I'm goin' to be either a s-s-sailor,
or--maybe P-P-Pr-President."

"If you're President you'll be a--a, what is it they call them?
Politicalers, I guess," returned the girl.

"P-p-p-pol-er-tic--ian," corrected Montgomery, with stuttering
eagerness.

Katharine accepted the correction without comment, though her lips
twitched and her eyes twinkled; and after a pause she continued:
"Politicians can do things. They can get folks elected. Anybody to
anything. Plain storekeepers to be postmasters; postmasters to be
Senators; Senators to be Presidents; and--and hired men to be
constables. Can't they?"

"Y-y-yes. Why?"

Katharine sat upright so suddenly that her hat rolled over and the eggs
spilled from it. However, the hay was soft, and no harm was done, nor
was her enthusiasm cooled by a trifle of that sort. Clasping her hands
ecstatically, she exclaimed:

"We must do it! You and I must get Uncle Moses Jones elected constable.
Now, while he's sick, for a surprise. Won't that be grand?"

"Grand!" assented Montgomery, with such eagerness that he forgot to trip
in his speech. Then doubt and stammering returned together. "W-w-we
c-c-c-couldn't."

"Yes, we could, if we had