ause of a certain recollection. She must get to the bottom of
this. She sought Aunt Louise privately. "Aren't you a Democrat?" she
inquired.

The indignant response of Aunt Louise was disconcerting. "What else
could you dream I am?" she demanded with asperity.

"You said you didn't approve of Democratic Institutions," explained
Emily Louise, recalling.

"I approve of nothing under Republican domination," said Aunt Louise
haughtily--which was muddling.

"What's Papa?" asked Emily Louise, suddenly.

Aunt Louise, dressing for a party, shut her door sharply.

One could ask Aunt Cordelia. But Aunt Cordelia turned testy, and even
told Emily Louise to run away.

Uncle Charlie was gone.

There was Aunt M'randa and Tom, so Emily Louise sought the kitchen. It
was after supper. Tom was spelling the news from a paper spread on the
table, and Aunt M'randa was making up the flannel cakes for breakfast.

"Who? Yo' paw?" said Tom; "he's a Republican; he done edit that kinder
paper over 'cross the Ohier River, he does."

There was unction in the glib quickness of Tom's reply. Then he dodged;
it was just in time.

"Shet yo' mouf," said Aunt M'randa with wrath; "ain't I done tol' how
they've kep' it from the chile."

Emily Louise was swallowing hard. "Then--then--am I a Republican?" Her
voice sounded way off.

Aunt M'randa turned a scandalised face upon her last baby in the
family. "Co'se yer ain't chile; huccome yer think sech er thing? Ain't
yer done learned its sinnahs is lumped wi' 'publicans--po' whites, an'
cul'd folks an' sech?"

The comfort in Aunt M'randa's reassuring was questionable. "But--you
said--my papa--" said Emily Louise.

The tension demanded relief. Aunt M'randa turned on Tom. "I lay I bus'
yo' haid open ef yer don't quit yo' stan'in' wi' yer mouf gapin' at the
trouble yer done made."

Aunt M'randa was sparring for time.

"Don' yer worry 'bout dat, honey"--this to Emily Louise--"hit's jes' one
dese here mistakes in jogaphy, seem like, same es yer tell erbout
gettin' kep' in foh. Huccome a gen'man like yo' paw, got bawn y'other
side de Ohier River, 'ceptin' was an acci-dent? Dess tell me dat? But
dere's 'nough quality dis here side de fam'ly to keep yer a good
Dem'crat, honey--" and Aunt M'randa, muttering, glared at Tom.

For Emily Louise was gazing into a gulf wider than the river rolling
between home--and papa, a gulf called war; nor did Emily Louise know, as
Aunt M'randa knew, that it was a b