"School doesn't begin for nearly three weeks." "There's the suffrage campaign," she answered.

He gave her a look of exasperation.
"Now what the devil has suffrage to do with your schools ?" he demanded.
"When the women get the vote, we'll spend more money on the children." "Suppose the money isn't there," was Roger's grim rejoinder.
"Then we'll act like old-fashioned wives, I suppose," his daughter answered cheerfully, "and keep nagging till it is there.

We'll keep up such a nagging," she added, in sweet even tones, "that you'll get the money by hook or crook, to save yourselves from going insane." After this he caught her reading in the New York papers the list of campaign meetings each night, meetings in hot stifling halls or out upon deafening corners.

And as she read there came over her face a look like that of a man who has given up tobacco and suddenly sniffs it among his friends.

She went down the last night of August.
* * * * * Roger stayed on for another two weeks, on into the best time of the year.
For now came the nights of the first snapping frosts when the dome of the heavens was steely blue, and clear sparkling mornings, the woods aflame with scarlet and gold.