uncork a gas bomb in the Capitol at Washington, in spite of the fact
that my second cousin, once removed, the Honorable J. C. Willoughby,
represents his country in its legislative halls.

It is always a bad sign when Tish talks politics, especially since the
income tax.

Although it had no significance for us at the time, she did not put her
car in the barn as she usually does, but left it in the road. The house
was closed, and there was no cool and refreshing buttermilk with which
to wash down our frugal repast, which we ate on the porch, as Tish did
not offer to unlock the house. Frugal repast it was indeed, consisting
of lettuce sandwiches made without butter, as Tish considered that both
butter and lettuce was an extravagance. There were, of course, also
beans.

Now as it happens, Aggie is not strong and requires palatable as well as
substantial food to enable her to get about, especially to climb trees.
We missed her during the meal, and I saw that she was going toward the
barn. Tish saw it also, and called to her sharply.

"I am going to get an egg," Aggie replied, with gentle obstinacy. "I am
starving, Tish, and I am certain I heard a hen cackle. Probably one of
the Knowles's chickens----"

"If it is a Knowles's chicken," Tish said, virtuously, "its egg is a
Knowles's egg, and we have no right to it."

I am sorry to relate that here Aggie said: "Oh, rats!" but as she
apologized immediately, and let the egg drop, figuratively, of course,
peace again hovered over our little party. Only momentarily, however,
for, a short time after, a hen undoubtedly cackled, and Aggie got up
with an air of determination.

"Tish," she said, "that may be a Knowles's hen or it may be one
belonging to this farm. I don't know, and I don't give a--I don't care.
I'm going to get it."

"The barn's locked," said Tish.

"I could get in through a window."

I shall never forget Tish's look of scorn as she rose with dignity, and
stalked toward the barn.

"I shall go myself, Aggie," she said, as she passed her. "You would
probably fall in the rain barrel under the window. You're no climber.
And you might as well eat those crusts you've hidden under the porch, if
you're as hungry as you make out you are."

"Lizzie," Aggie hissed, when Tish was out of hearing, "_what is in that
barn?_"

"It may be anything from a German spy to an aeroplane," I said. "But
it's not your business or mine."

"You needn't be so dratted virtuous," A