Here in the midst of this intimate family group I kept wishing that, in some way, the matter of polygamy might be mentioned. By this time I had heard so many Mormons talk about it freely that I understood the topic was not taboo; still, in the presence of Mrs. Smith I hardly knew how to begin, or indeed, whether it was tactful to begin--although I had been informed in advance that I might ask questions. But how to ask? I couldn't very well say to this pleasant lady: "How do you like being one of five or six wives, and how do you think the others like it?" And as for: "How do you like being married?" that hardly expressed the question that was in my mind--besides which, it was plainly evident that the lady was entirely content with her lot. It did not seem proper to inquire of my hostess: "How can you be content?" That much my social instinct told me. What, then, could I ask? At last the baby granddaughter gave me a happy thought. "Certainly," I said to myself, "it cannot be bad form to make polite inquiries about the family of any gentleman." I tried to think how I might best ask the President the question. "Have you any children?" would not do, because there was his son, right in the room, and other sons and daughters had been referred to in the course of conversation. Finally, as time was getting short, I determined to put it bluntly. "How many children and grandchildren have you?" I asked President Smith. He was not in the least annoyed by the inquiry; only a little bit perplexed. "Let's see," he answered ruminatively, fingering his long beard, and looking at the ceiling. "I don't remember exactly--but over a hundred." "Why!" put in Mrs. Smith, proudly, "you have a lot over a hundred." Then, to me, she explained: "I am the mother of eleven, and I have had thirty-two grandchildren in the last twelve years. There is forty-three, right there." "Oh, you surely have a hundred and ten, father," said young Smith. "Perhaps, perhaps," returned the modern Abraham, contentedly. "I beat you, though!" laughed President Penrose. "I don't know about that," interposed young Smith, sticking up for the family. "If father would count up I think you'd find he was ahead." "How many have you?" President Smith inquired of his coadjutor. President Penrose rubbed his hands and beamed with satisfaction. "A hundred and twenty-odd," he said. After that there was no gainsaying him. He was supreme. Even Mrs. Smith admitted it. "Yes," she said, smiling and shaking a playful finger at him, "you're ahead just now; but remember, you're older than we are. You just give us time!" CHAPTER XXXVI PASSING PICTURES