Daughter-in-law, still looking through the window, and wholly absorbed in contemplation of the vernal prospect, was suddenly overwhelmed by a dreadful fear lest the histrionic temperament, which was her own private and particular cross, should make an exhibition of itself.
Mother was fearfully good at argument, and always had been. Phil-ipp, of course, was the merest child at it, even though he had been selected by the Party of Progress to fight their great cause. Mother in her inmost heart thought it was the clearest proof of the contemptible level of Rag intellect, that any body of registered voters should have brought themselves to confide in any such candidate. And Mother nearly boiled over when Mr. Philip made an even more abject confession of his impotence.
"Come and argue with the Mater a bit," said he to fair Nature's admirer, still at gaze upon the vernal prospect. "She's much too clever for me."
Should Mother take off the gloves? No, decidedly more Politic not to remove them. Mother's third chin advanced a little, though, in spite of herself. This daughter of the people was likely to know more about the peeling of potatoes than of the conduct of high politics.
At the summons of her lord, however, the young minx controlled her mobile features as well as in her
