Part 10 (2/2)

Mr. Fenelby shook his head slowly and Mrs. Fenelby's face lost its radiance and became questioningly fear-struck.

”What is it?” she asked, anxiously. ”Can't we stop? Must we keep on with it forever and forever?”

”You forget the Congress of the Commonwealth of Bobberts,” said Mr.

Fenelby. ”The tariff law was pa.s.sed by the congress, and it can only be repealed by the congress, with Bobberts present.”

Mrs. Fenelby wiped her hands hurriedly and rapidly untied her ap.r.o.n.

”I hate to waken Bobberts,” she said, ”but I will! I'd do anything to have that tariff unpa.s.sed again.”

Mr. Fenelby put his hand on her arm, restraining her as she was about to rush from the kitchen.

”Wait, Laura!” he said. ”You forget that you and I are not the only States now. Kitty and Billy are States, too. You and I would not form a quorum. We must have Kitty and Billy.”

”Tom,” she said, ”I will get Kitty and Billy if I have to drag them in by main force!” and she went to find them. Ten minutes later she returned but without them. Mr. Fenelby had finished the dishes, and was hanging the dish-pan on its nail.

The two needed States were nowhere to be found, neither in the house, nor on the porch, nor were they on the grounds. There was nothing to do but to await their return. It was quite late when Kitty and Billy returned, and the Fenelbys had grown tired of sitting on the porch and had gone inside, but Kitty and Billy did not seem to mind the dampness or the chill for the moon was beautiful, and they seated themselves in the hammock. Bobberts had been put to bed, and his parents had become almost merry with their old-time merriment as they contemplated the speedy over-throw of the Fenelby Domestic Tariff. The joy that comes from a tax repealed is greater than the peace that comes from paying a tax honestly. There is no fun in paying taxes. Not the least.

”I think, Laura,” said Mr. Fenelby, when he and his wife had listened to the slow creaking of the hammock hooks for some minutes, ”you had better go out and tell them to come in.”

Mrs. Fenelby went. She let the porch screen slam as she went out--which was only fair--and she heard the low whispers change to louder tones, and a slight movement of feet; but she was not, evidently, intruding, for Kitty and Billy were quite primly disposed in the hammock when she reached them.

”h.e.l.lo!” she said pleasantly, ”Won't you come in? We are going to vote on the tariff.”

”Go ahead and vote,” said Billy cheerfully. ”We won't interfere.”

”But we can't vote until you come in,” explained Mrs. Fenelby. ”We haven't a quorum until you come in. You are States, and we can't do anything until you come in.”

”Did you try?” asked Billy, just as cheerfully as before. ”We don't want to vote. We are comfortable out here. If we must vote, bring your congress out here.”

”Billy, I would if I could,” said Mrs. Fenelby, ”but I can't!

Bobberts has to be present, and he can't be brought out into the night air.”

Kitty half rose from the hammock. She felt to see that her hair was in order.

”Come on, Billy,” she said. ”Be accommodating,” and they went in.

It was necessary to bring Bobberts down from the nursery, and Mrs.

Fenelby brought him in, limp and sleeping, and sat with him in her arms. Mr. Fenelby explained why the meeting was called.

”It is because Laura and I are tired of this tariff nonsense,” he explained. ”You and Kitty have seen how it works--everybody in the house mad at one another--”

”Not Billy and I,” interposed Kitty. ”Are we Billy?”

”Let us, for the sake of argument, suppose we are,” said Billy. ”We must give Tom a fair chance. It is his tariff, not ours.”

”Very well,” said Kitty; ”we are all angry! Let us quarrel!”

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