“But won’t our trade be spoiled? Rhoda says so.” “You let me talk to Rhoda,” said Mr. Hopkins, rising, “and leave politics alone, little one. Run along and help your aunt.” “She doesn’t want any help, and she doesn’t like me to be in the kitchen. Father, dear, when shall I be old enough to keep house for you, and have Aunt Dorky, and Lutie, and all of them for our servants?” He put his arm around her caressingly. “We cannot think of such things till this war matter is settled, my pet. I must be on hand to serve if need be, and I couldn’t leave my little girl alone, you know.” “I wish I could fight,” said Lettice, solemnly. Her father smiled. “Pray heaven that you’ll never see fight,” he said. But Lettice was soon to see the first effects of war, for the following evening Rhoda’s father came in and pulled a paper out of his pocket as he sat down to the table. “What do you think of this, Tom?” he said. “There’s a level-headed man for you!” and he read: “We mean to use every constitutional argument and every legal means to render as odious and suspicious to the American people, as they deserve to be, the patrons and contrivers of this highly impolitic and destructive war, in the full persuasion that we shall be supported and ultimately applauded by nine-tenths of our countrymen, and that our silence would be treason to them.” “What do I think of that?” said Mr. Hopkins, “I think that Mr. Hanson is laying up trouble for himself, for I suppose that is the _Federal Republican_ you have there.” “It is, and I fully agree with Mr. Hanson, if he is the editor.” “You of Massachusetts may, but we of Maryland do not,” returned Mr. Hopkins, with some heat; “and Mr. Hanson will find out to his cost that he cannot disseminate such a publication without endangering himself and his property.” Sure enough, on the following Monday evening a party of indignant citizens destroyed the type, presses, paper, etc., of the _Federal Republican_, and razed the house to its foundations, following out Mr. Hopkins’s predictions. “Outrageous!” cried Rhoda, when she heard the reports. “What a lawless set you are here.” “Almost as much so as you were up in Boston some forty years ago,” retorted her Cousin Joe, lazily, at which Rhoda’s pale blue eyes flashed, and she set her lips defiantly. “You are talking nonsense!” she said. “That was for our liberty, and this is but the furthering an unnecessary conflict which will ruin the country our fathers so bravely fought for.” “And for which our fathers will bravely fight again, won’t they, Cousin Joe?” Lettice broke in. “Mine will, I know, although I don’t suppose yours will, Rhoda.” “Sh! Sh!” cried Mrs. Hopkins. “Don’t quarrel, children. I hoped you two girls would be good friends, but you are forever sparring. You are not very polite, Lettice. You’ll be sending Rhoda home with a poor opinion of Southern hospitality.”