And with a wild shout of glee the “fat one” fell upon the finished castle, fist and foot, and demolished it, and rolled in the ruins with his father and mother mauling him and each other. The waitress, coming to announce lunch, caught them. But she was used to it. She laughed at them and they laughed back at her. On the way down, George said: “I’ve figured it all out. I could force them to give me a second term. But I want to get my independent movement under way. So I’ll let Sayler and Hazelrigg do as they like, and I’ll run independent--and take a defeat.” “I’ll be glad to get away from this house,” said Eleanor. “I sometimes think it’s damp and bad for the baby.” “Oh, we’ll be back here in a few years, all right,” said George. “I’ve got a lot of work to do in this job of governor.” “Well--by that time the baby won’t any longer be a baby----” She stopped short on the stairway. “Oh, George!” she cried. “Isn’t that a _frightful_ thought! If we could only keep him as he is--and ourselves as we are--always!” George did not like the thought either. But he said cheeringly, “I guess we’ll find as many things to like in to-morrow as we’ve found in to-day. Anyhow, let’s hope so.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “_Hope_ so? We _know_ so! As many things? More things, George--every day more and more things--to like--to love--to live for.” George was suddenly so happy that he carried her and the baby the rest of the way down stairs--she in one arm, the baby in the other, with equal ease. What a good old world it was, after all--if one only took it right! The one thing it lacked was “the people.” If there were a real “people”--intelligent, persistent, not easily fooled, no longer conquerable and easy to rob and oppress through their ignorance and their prejudices--if there were “the people,” refusing to be ruled except by and for themselves, what a heaven of a world it would become! Well--the thing to do was to fall to and do his share toward making this “people.” They were at lunch--a little table, he, his wife, the baby in a high-chair. George and Eleanor looked at each other, and their eyes filled; for the same thought came to both. The “fat one” halted his spoon on its way to his mouth and looked inquiringly from one to the other. Said she unsteadily, laughing to keep from crying: “Don’t, George--don’t look at me like that. We’ll make the baby cry.” THE END TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.