A moment after Lettice had become the careful housewife, selecting her various articles with great judgment, tasting butter, scrutinizing strawberries to be sure their caps were fresh and green, lifting with delicate finger the gills of a fish to see if they were properly red, and quite surprising Rhoda by her knowledge of and interest in articles of food. “One would suppose you were the housekeeper,” she said to Lettice. “How did you learn all those things?” “My mother taught me some, and our old cook others. My mother considered certain matters of housekeeping the first for a girl to learn, and I hope to keep house for my father in another year, if this wretched war is over then.” “War!” replied Rhoda, scornfully. “It is so absurd to talk of war.” But not many days after came the first ominous outburst of the future storm. It was on July 27, about twilight, that Lettice and Rhoda, who were slowly sauntering up and down the pavement, saw a crowd beginning to gather before a respectable-looking house on Charles Street. “I wonder what can be the matter,” said Lettice, pausing in her account of a fox-hunt. “Do you see yonder crowd, Rhoda?” “Yes, let us go and find out what it means.” “Oh, no!” And Lettice, who had surprised Rhoda by telling how she could take a ditch, was not ready to cross the street to join the crowd. “There can’t be any danger,” said Rhoda. “Oh, but there is. See there, Rhoda, they are throwing stones at the windows. Oh, I see, it is the house which Mr. Hanson now occupies, since they tore down his printing-press. Oh, this is dreadful! Come, Rhoda, run, run; the crowd is growing larger; we’ll be caught in the midst of it.” But Rhoda still hesitated. “Is that the gentleman whose paper my father commended?” “Mr. Hanson? Yes, it is; he is the editor of the _Federal Republican_, and it is evident that he has written something to enrage his enemies. Come, Rhoda, do come. I am afraid we shall be hurt, and anyhow, we must not mingle in such a rabble. I’m going to run,” and suiting the action to the word, she ran swiftly along the street toward home, Rhoda following at a slower gait. They met their Cousin Joe hurrying toward them. “Oh, Cousin Joe, Cousin Joe,” cried Lettice, grasping his arm, “there is something dreadful going on! Take us home! I am scared! I don’t want to see or hear what they are doing. They are throwing stones at Mr. Hanson’s house, and are breaking the windows, and yelling and howling like mad! Listen! What do they mean to do? Why are they so fierce? I am so afraid some one will be killed.” “It means that war has begun,” said her cousin, slowly. “But what a way to do it!” said Rhoda, indignantly. “A rabble like that, to attack a few innocent people!” “Innocent from your point of view, but not from the mob’s.” “You uphold the mob?”