porch got stopped somehow, last year"—this Kennaston contributed, morosely—"and we had a terrible time."
"—Then there is always so much to do, getting the children started at school," my wife continued—"everything under the sun needed at the last moment, of course! And the way they change all the school-books every year is simply ridiculous. So, if I had my way, we would always go away early, and be back again in good time to get things in shape—"
"Oh, yes, if we could have our way!"—Mrs. Kennaston could not deny that—"but don't your servants always want August off, to go home? I know ours do: and, my dear, you simply don't dare say a word."
"That is the great trouble in the country," I philosophized—"in fact, we suburbanites are pretty well hag-ridden by our dusky familiars. The old-time darkies are dying out, and the younger generation is simply worthless. And with no more sense of gratitude—Why, Moira hired a new girl last week, to help out upstairs, and—"
