d Mrs. Fenelby, holding up her sewing and looking at it
with her head tilted to one side, "that will be nice."

Mr. Fenelby wrote it in his blankbook, at the top of the first blank
page.

"Fine!" said Mr. Fenelby, growing more enthusiastic as the idea
expanded in his mind. "And the congress will be composed of
everyone in the family. No taxation without representation, you
know--that is the American way of doing things. Everything that
comes into the house has to pay a duty, so everyone in the family
has a vote, and every so often the congress will meet in the parlor
here--"

"Does Bobberts have a vote?" asked Mrs. Fenelby.

"Ah--well, Bobberts is hardly old enough, you know," said Mr.
Fenelby hesitatingly. "We will--No," he said with sudden
inspiration, "Bobberts will not have a vote. Bobberts will be a
Territory! That is it. Grown-ups will be States and infants will be
Territories. Bobberts can't vote, but he can attend the meetings of
congress and he can have a voice in the debates. He can oppose any
measure with his voice--"

"I should think he could!" said Mrs. Fenelby.

Mr. Fenelby turned to his desk and wrote in the book a brief outline
of the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Bobberts. Mrs. Fenelby
creased a tuck into the little dress she was making. She did it by
pinning one end of the sheer linen to her knee and then running her
thumb up and down the folded tuck. Suddenly the door opened and
Bridget entered with aggressive quietness. She was a plain faced
Irishwoman, and the way she wore her hair, straight back from her
brow, had in itself an air of constant readiness to do battle for
her rights. When she was noisy her noise was a challenge, and when
she was quiet her quietness was full of mute assertiveness. It was
as if, when she wished to enter a room quietly, she was not content
to enter it quietly and be satisfied with that, but first prepared
for it by draping herself in strings of cow-bells and sleigh-bells,
and then entered on tip-toe with painful care.

"Missus Fenelby, ma'am," said Bridget, in a loud whisper, "would ye
be havin' th' milkman lave wan or two quarts ov milk in th'
mornin'?"

"Why, Bridget," said Mrs. Fenelby, "haven't I told you we _always_
want two quarts?"

"Yis, ma'am," said Bridget. "An' ye can't say that ye haven't got
thim iv'ry mornin', either. If ye can, an' wish t' say it, ma'am, ye
may as well say it now as another toime. I may have me faults,
ma'am--"

"You