"And a MacLauren?" queried Emily Louise.

But Aunt Cordelia's enthusiasm had cooled.

There came a time when Emily Louise divined why. All at once talk began at school, about a thing looming ahead, called an Election. It seemed a disturbing thing, keeping Uncle Charlie at the office all hours. And when in time it actually arrived, Emily Louise could not go to school that day because the way would take her past the Polls, yet ordinarily this was only the grocery; but so dreadful a place is it when it becomes a poll, that Aunt Cordelia could not go to it for her marketing.

Hitherto, except when Miss Amanda wanted to be funny, Emily Louise had felt her to be inoffensive; but as election became the absorbing topic of Grammar School, a dreadful thing came to light--Miss Amanda was a Republican.

Hattie told Emily Louise; her voice was low and full of horror. For Hattie reflected the spirit of her State and age; the State was in the South, the year was preceding the '80's.

Emily Louise lowered her voice, too; it was to ask just what is a Republican. She was conscious of a vagueness.

Hattie looked at her, amazed. "A Republican--why--people who are not Democrats--of course."

"How does one know which one is?" asked Emily Louise, feeling that it would be disconcerting, considering public opinion, to find herself a Republican.

Hattie looked tried. "You're what your father is, naturally. I should think you'd know that, Emily Louise."

On the way from school William joined Emily Louise.

"What's a Republican, William?" she asked.

His countenance changed. "It's--well--it's the sort you don't want to have anything to do with," said William, darkly.

Emily Louise, knowing how William regarded her conscientiousness, was uneasy because 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 Inst.i.tutions," 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 rea.s.suring 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 baby's little fists clutching at Aunt Cordelia that had bridged that gulf.

Emily Louise turned away--her papa was that thing for lowered voice and bated breath--her papa--was a Republican.

Then Emily Louise was a Republican also. Hattie said so; Aunt M'randa did not know. At twelve one begins determinedly to face facts.

Yet the very next day Emily Louise made discovery that a greater than her papa had been that thing for lowered tones. She was working upon her weekly composition, and this week the subject was "George Washington."

Emily Louise had just set forth upon legal cap her opening conclusions upon the matter. She had gone deep into the family annals of George, for, by nature, Emily Louise was thorough, and William had testified that she was conscientious.

"George Washington was a great man and so was his mother."

Here she paused, pen suspended; for the full meaning of a statement in the history spread before her had suddenly dawned upon her; for that history declared George Washington "a firm advocate for these republican principles."

Should an Emily Louise then turn traitor to her father, or should she desert an Aunt Cordelia and an Aunt Louise?

Life is complex. At twelve a pucker of absorption and concentration begins to gather between the brows.

On the homeward way, William was waiting at the corner. "What is a person when they are not either Democrat or Republican?" Emily Louise asked as they went along.

William's tones were uncompromising. "A mugwump," he said, and he said it with contempt.

It sounded unpleasant, and as though it ought to merit the contempt of William.

And grammar was becoming as complex as life itself. One forenoon Emily Louise was called upon to recite the rule. Every day it was a different rule, which in itself was discouraging. But the exceptions were worse than the rule; for a rule is a matter of a mere paragraph, while the exceptions are measurable by pages.

But Emily Louise knew the rule. Even with town one background for flag and bunting; even with the streets one festive processional; even with the advent, in her city, of the President of the United States on his tour of the South; even with this in her civic precincts, Emily Louise, arising, was able correctly to recite the rule.

"An article should only be used once before a complex description of one and the same object."

"An example," said Miss Amanda.

Emily Louise stood perplexed, for none had been given in the book.

"Simply apply the rule and make your own," said Miss Amanda.

But it did not seem simple; Emily Louise was still thinking in the concrete.