riff, and if I ever said I didn't want it, it was because
you aggravated me. I won't have it stopped. I won't be so mean to
anything dear old Tom starts. It's Bobberts' tariff. You ought to
think more of Bobberts than to suggest such a thing, if you don't
love me."

Kitty stood back and looked at Laura as at some one possessed of
evil spirits. Then she turned to the table and took up the potato
knife and began slicing potatoes calmly.

"Very well, Laura," she said. "I tried to do what I thought you
would like, but if you want the tariff so badly I shall certainly
not oppose you. Hereafter, no matter what happens, Billy and I will
vote for the tariff!"

"And Tom and I certainly will," said Laura between sobs. "We don't
care _who_ the tariff bothers, or _how_ much trouble it is. We are
always, always going to have a tariff--for ever and ever!"

When she told Mr. Fenelby this he was not as happy about it as might
have been expected. He agreed that under the circumstances there was
nothing else to do; that the tariff must become a permanent fixture;
but he did not say so joyfully. He had more the air of a Job
admitting that a continued succession of boils was inevitable. Job,
under those circumstances was probably as placid as could be
expected, but not hilarious, and neither was Mr. Fenelby.

Dinner was as gloomy as breakfast had been. It developed into one of
the plate-studying kind, with each of the four eating hastily and
silently. Even Bobberts was not cheerful. He did not "coo" as usual,
but stared unsmilingly at the ceiling. Into such a condition does a
nation come when it suffers under a tax that is obnoxious, but which
it cannot and will not repeal. When a nation gets into that
condition one State can hardly ask another State to pass the butter,
and when it does ask, its parliamentary courtesy is something
frigidly polite. Suddenly Mrs. Fenelby looked up.

"Tom," she said, "there is somebody in the kitchen!"

Mr. Fenelby laid his fork softly on his plate and listened. There
was no doubt of it. Someone was in the kitchen, gathering up the
silverware. Mr. Fenelby arose and went into the kitchen. Almost
immediately he returned. He returned because he either had to follow
Bridget into the dining room or stay in the kitchen alone.

"It's me, ma'am," said Bridget. She planted herself before Mrs.
Fenelby and placed her hands on her hips. Mrs. Fenelby arose. "I've
come back," said Bridget.

"And you can go agai