CHARLOTTE BECKER.

THE DESPOT

By JOHNSON MORTON

It was the boast of the summer dwellers in Roscoe that they had not
spoiled the place. Mr. William Bangs was reiterating this to his
wife's niece, who stood regarding his potato patch rather disdainfully
through the glamour of a lorgnette.

"You see, Annie, my house is no better than my neighbors', my land not
so good," he went on. "We keep no servants, in the accepted sense,
only the girls whom you have seen--farmers' daughters from the
mountain road--or, as your aunt Mary _will_ put it, 'We look to the
hills whence cometh our _help_.' And the outside work is done by
Paterson Roscoe and myself, with occasional aid in haying time. The
Smiths live in quite the same fashion, the Jacksons, with all their
money, just as simply, and the Babbits and Thomases follow the lead.
As a result"--he dug his hoe into a hill of potatoes and Miss Jenkins
drew back a high-heeled slipper from the contact--"we have an ideal
community. The villagers haven't lost their proper sense of democracy
and equality. And we--the outsiders--have learned much from meeting
these plain, simple folk on their own ground. So I don't really
approve of this plan of yours. It's a tremendous innovation. We've got
on quite well enough for nearly four years without entertainments,
save those which are, so to speak, indigenous and natural. I don't at
all like the idea of vaudeville, and I abhor a raffle!"

"But the church does need the money so much, Uncle William," the girl
interrupted, "and it's a Unitarian church, so the raffle doesn't
matter. Mr. Blythe says he sees no objection to it if it's conducted
properly, and everyone is so interested. All the Pungville people will
come in quite a procession, and Tom Mason is to drive the performers
over on his coach."

"Oh, if Tom Mason's the reason"--uncle William's hoe rested
helplessly--"there's nothing more to be said." Annie frowned behind a
smile. "But we've been thanking Heaven every night of our lives that
nineteen stiff miles lay between us and that barbarous Pungville."

He picked up a handful of warm, brown potatoes and threw them into the
basket.

"My dear girl, you're a wonder! You've been here five days, and you'll
tear down in just that time what it has taken us four years to build
up."

"Then have I your blessing?"

The girl showed roguish under her insistence, but uncle William shook
his head. "The best you'll get from me, y