Mr. Fenelby slowly folded his napkin, and as slowly placed it in the ring. Then he laid the ring gently on the table and arranged his knife and fork side by side on his plate, as prescribed by the guide books to good manners. "She said she was going up stairs to pack her trunks," he said with deliberation. "To pack her trunks. If she has enough to pack into trunks, Laura, there has been smuggling going on in this house." Mrs. Fenelby folded her napkin as slowly as her husband had just folded his, and she kept her eyes on it as she answered. "Tom," she said, "do you think it is quite the time now to talk of smuggling? Wouldn't it be better if you went up and apologized to Kitty and Billy?" "Laura," said Mr. Fenelby, "it is always time to talk of smuggling. The foundation of the home is order; order can only be maintained by living up to such rules as are made; the Fenelby Domestic Tariff is more than a rule, it is a law. If we let the laws of our home be trampled under foot by whoever chooses the whole thing totters, sways and falls. The home is wrecked and sorrow and dissention come. Dissention leads to misunderstanding and divorce. That is why I am strict. That is why I refuse to let two strangers wreck our whole lives by ignoring the Domestic Tariff. If they do not like the laws of our little Commonwealth, they can go. The door is open!" "Thomas Fenelby," said his wife, "I think you are horrid! I never knew anything so unhospitable in my life. It isn't as if no one in this house ever broke that tariff law except Kitty and Billy; you haven't explained about that box--" Mr. Fenelby reddened and he looked at his wife sternly. "Do you mean the box I found hidden under the eaves in the attic, addressed to you, my dear?" he asked with cutting sweetness, and Mrs. Fenelby, in turn, grew red and gasped. "You are mean!" she exclaimed. "I think you are not--not nice to go poking around under eaves and things, trying to find some blame to throw up to your wife! I wish you had never thought of your horrid tariff, and--and--" She put her handkerchief to her eyes, and a minute later went out of the room and up the stairs. Mr. Fenelby heard her cross the floor above him, and heard the creaking of the bed as she threw herself upon it. He looked sternly out of the dining room window awhile. Never, never had his wife spoken such words to him before. If she wished to act so it was very well--she should be taught a lesson. She was vexed because she had been caught in a palpable case of smuggling herself. Now he-- He arose and took Bobberts' bank from the mantel; from his pocket he drew a small collection of loose change and one or two small bills, and saving out one dime he fed the rest into Bobberts' bank. For a few more minutes he looked gloomily from the window, and then he went gloomily forth and dropped into the hammock.