<h2><SPAN name="XI" id="XI"></SPAN>XI</h2><h3>THE COUP D’ÉTAT</h3>
<p>The next morning dawned gloomily. The sky was a dull gray, and a
sickening drizzle was falling, mixed with a thick fog that made
everything and everybody soggy and damp. It was a most dismal and
disheartening Sunday, without a ray of cheerfulness in it, and Mr.
and Mrs. Fenelby felt the burden of the day keenly. The house had
the usual Sunday morning air of untidiness. It was a bad day on
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</SPAN></span>which to take up the load of the tariff and carry it through twelve
hours of servantless housekeeping.</p>
<p>Breakfast was a sad affair. Kitty and Billy, who seemed in high
spirits, tried to give the meal an air of gaiety, but Mr. Fenelby
was glum and his wife naturally reflected some of his feeling, and
after a few attempts to liven things Kitty and Billy turned their
attention to each other and left the Fenelbys alone with their
gloom. As soon as breakfast was over, Kitty, after a weak suggestion
that she should help Laura with the dishes, carried Billy away,
saying that no matter what happened she was going <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</SPAN></span>to church. The
Fenelbys were glad to have them go, and Mr. Fenelby helped Laura
carry out the breakfast things.</p>
<p>“Laura,” said Mr. Fenelby, “I lay awake a long time last night
thinking about the tariff, and something has got to be done about
it! I cannot, as the father of Bobberts, let it go on as it is
going.”</p>
<p>“I lay awake too,” said Laura, “and I think exactly as you do, Tom.”</p>
<p>“I knew you would,” said Mr. Fenelby. “The way Kitty and Billy are
acting is not to be borne. They acted last night as if you and I
were not capable of raising our own child! I <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</SPAN></span>really cannot put
another cent in that bank under the tariff law, Laura. Just think
how it looks—<i>we</i> are not to be trusted to provide Bobberts with an
education; <i>we</i> are not fit to decide how to raise the money for
him. No, Kitty and Billy are to be his guardians. They don’t trust
us; they insist that we shall keep ourselves bound by the tariff
system. They think we don’t love dear little Bobberts, and they
think they can make us provide for him, just because they have the
balance of power!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Laura sympathetically. “I thought of all that, Tom, and
I don’t think it does them much credit. <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</SPAN></span>It is easy enough for them
to say there must be a tariff, when they bring hardly anything into
the house that they have to pay duty on, but <i>we</i> have to keep the
house going. <i>We</i> have to have vegetables and meat and all sorts of
things, and they are making <i>us</i> pay duty, while all they have to do
is to eat and have a good time. Bobberts is our child, Tom, and it
ought to be for us to say what we will save for him, and how we will
save it.”</p>
<p>“That is just what I think,” said Mr. Fenelby feelingly, “and I am
not going to stand it any longer. I am going to have another meeting
of congress this afternoon—”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</SPAN></span>“They will vote just the same way,” said Laura, hopelessly.</p>
<p>“Probably,” said Mr. Fenelby. “But if they do we will end the whole
thing.”</p>
<p>“We can’t send them away,” said Laura. “We couldn’t be so rude as
that.”</p>
<p>“No,” said Mr. Fenelby, “but we will secede. You and I and Bobberts
will secede from the Union. I never believed in secession, Laura,
but I see now that there are times when conditions become so
intolerable that there is nothing else to do. We will give them a
chance to vote the tariff out of existence, and if they don’t <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</SPAN></span>we
will just secede from the Commonwealth of Bobberts. We will have a
free trade commonwealth of our own, and Kitty and Billy can do as
they please.”</p>
<p>“Tom,” said Mrs. Fenelby, “that is just what we will do!” And so it
was settled.</p>
<p>By the time Kitty and Billy returned loiteringly from church Mr.
Fenelby had progressed pretty well through four of the sixteen
sections of the Sunday paper, and Mrs. Fenelby had Bobberts washed
and dressed and was in the kitchen preparing dinner, which on Sunday
was supposed to be at noon, but which, this Sunday, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</SPAN></span>threatened to
be about two o’clock. Kitty threw off her hat and dropped her
umbrella in the hall and rushed for the kitchen. Billy merely
glanced into the parlor, and seeing Tom holding the grim funny page
uncompromisingly before his face, strolled out to the hammock.</p>
<p>“Laura,” cried Kitty, “you <i>must</i> let me help you! And what do you
think? We met Doctor Stafford, and he <i>did</i> prescribe whisky and
rock candy for Bridget’s cold! So I fixed everything all right. I
rushed Billy around to Bridget’s sister’s and Bridget is just
getting over her cold, so she was glad to come back to you. She
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</SPAN></span>says she never, never drinks except under her doctor’s orders, and
she said that if you hadn’t been so hasty—”</p>
<p>Mrs. Fenelby dropped the potato she was slicing. Her pretty mouth
hardened.</p>
<p>“Kitty!” she exclaimed. “Now I shall <i>never</i> forgive you! I will
<i>never</i> have Bridget in this kitchen again! It wasn’t only that she
drank, it was her awful, awful deceitfulness. It was that, Kitty,
more than anything else. I <i>won’t</i> have people about me who will not
live up to the tariff poor dear Tom worked and worried to make!
<i>You</i> may smuggle, Kitty, if you must be so low, and I certainly
have no control <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</SPAN></span>over Billy, but my servants must not break the
rules of this house. If that Bridget dares to put her head inside of
this door I will send her about her business.”</p>
<p>“Laura,” said Kitty, “I wish you would be reasonable—like Billy and
me. We talked it all over on the way to church, and we saw that it
was Tom’s crazy old tariff that was making all the trouble and
driving Bridget away and everything, and we decided we would stop
the tariff right away.”</p>
<p>Laura’s chin went into the air and her eyes flashed.</p>
<p>“<i>You</i> will stop the tariff!” she <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</SPAN></span>cried, turning red. “What right
have <i>you</i> to stop anything in this house, Kitty? And it isn’t a
crazy tariff. It was a splendid idea, and no one but Tom would ever
have thought of it, and it worked all right until you and Billy
began spoiling it!”</p>
<p>“But I thought you wanted it stopped,” said Kitty.</p>
<p>“I don’t!” exclaimed Laura, bursting into tears. “It is a nice,
lovely tariff, and if I ever said I didn’t want it, it was because
you aggravated me. I won’t have it stopped. I won’t be so mean to
anything dear old Tom starts. It’s Bobberts’ tariff. You ought to
think more of Bobberts than to <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</SPAN></span>suggest such a thing, if you don’t
love me.”</p>
<p>Kitty stood back and looked at Laura as at some one possessed of
evil spirits. Then she turned to the table and took up the potato
knife and began slicing potatoes calmly.</p>
<p>“Very well, Laura,” she said. “I tried to do what I thought you
would like, but if you want the tariff so badly I shall certainly
not oppose you. Hereafter, no matter what happens, Billy and I will
vote for the tariff!”</p>
<p>“And Tom and I certainly will,” said Laura between sobs. “We don’t
care <i>who</i> the tariff bothers, or <i>how</i> much trouble it is. We are
always, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</SPAN></span>always going to have a tariff—for ever and ever!”</p>
<p>When she told Mr. Fenelby this he was not as happy about it as might
have been expected. He agreed that under the circumstances there was
nothing else to do; that the tariff must become a permanent fixture;
but he did not say so joyfully. He had more the air of a Job
admitting that a continued succession of boils was inevitable. Job,
under those circumstances was probably as placid as could be
expected, but not hilarious, and neither was Mr. Fenelby.</p>
<p>Dinner was as gloomy as breakfast had been. It developed into one of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</SPAN></span>the plate-studying kind, with each of the four eating hastily and
silently. Even Bobberts was not cheerful. He did not “coo” as usual,
but stared unsmilingly at the ceiling. Into such a condition does a
nation come when it suffers under a tax that is obnoxious, but which
it cannot and will not repeal. When a nation gets into that
condition one State can hardly ask another State to pass the butter,
and when it does ask, its parliamentary courtesy is something
frigidly polite. Suddenly Mrs. Fenelby looked up.</p>
<p>“Tom,” she said, “there is somebody in the kitchen!”</p>
<p>Mr. Fenelby laid his fork softly on <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</SPAN></span>his plate and listened. There
was no doubt of it. Someone was in the kitchen, gathering up the
silverware. Mr. Fenelby arose and went into the kitchen. Almost
immediately he returned. He returned because he either had to follow
Bridget into the dining room or stay in the kitchen alone.</p>
<p>“It’s me, ma’am,” said Bridget. She planted herself before Mrs.
Fenelby and placed her hands on her hips. Mrs. Fenelby arose. “I’ve
come back,” said Bridget.</p>
<p>“And you can go again,” said Mrs. Fenelby regally. “I do not want
you, you can go!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</SPAN></span>“Yes, ma’am,” said Bridget. “’Tis all th’ same t’ me—stay or go,
ma’am,—but I’ll be askin’ ye t’ pay me a month’s wages, Mrs.
Fenelby, if ye want me t’ go. A month’s wages or a month’s
notice—that is th’ law, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“The idea!” exclaimed Mrs. Fenelby. “I have not even hired you,
yet!”</p>
<p>“No, ma’am,” said Bridget, “but th’ young lady has. She hired me
with her own mouth, at me own sister Maggie’s, who will be witness
t’ it, an’ I have been workin’ in th’ kitchen already. I’ve washed
th’ spoons.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</SPAN></span>“The young lady,” said Mrs. Fenelby coldly, “has no right to hire
servants for me.”</p>
<p>“And hasn’t she, ma’am?” said Bridget angrily. “Let th’ judge in th’
court-house say if she has or hasn’t! Don’t try t’ fool me, Missus
Fenelby, ma’am. I’ve worked here before, ma’am, an’ I know all about
th’ Commonwealth way ye have of doin’ things. Wan of ye has as good
a right t’ vote me into a job as another has, Mrs. Fenelby, an’ th’
young lady an’ th’ young gintleman both asked me t’ come. Even a
poor ign’rant Irish girl has rights, Mrs. Fenelby, an’ hired I was,
t’ worrk for th’ Commonwealth. <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</SPAN></span>An’ here I stay, without ye choose
t’ hand me me month’s wages!”</p>
<p>Mrs. Fenelby looked appealingly at Tom, and Tom looked at Billy.</p>
<p>“I think she’d win, if she took it to law,” said Billy. “You know
how the judges are. And if she brought up the matter of the
Commonwealth, you know you <i>did</i> make Kitty and me full partakers in
it.”</p>
<p>“Tom,” said Mrs. Fenelby, “pay her a month’s wages and let her go!”</p>
<p>Mr. Fenelby moved uneasily. He had put all his money into Bobberts’
bank. In all the house there was not a month’s wages except in
Bobberts’ bank. Mr. Fenelby looked toward the bank.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</SPAN></span>“Never!” said Billy. “<i>I</i> put money into that, and so did Kitty. It
is for Bobberts, not for month’s wages. I object.”</p>
<p>Mr. Fenelby looked away from the bank. He looked, helplessly, all
around the room, and ended by looking at Laura.</p>
<p>“My dear,” he said, “I think we had better keep Bridget.”</p>
<p>“I think ye had!” said Bridget. “For there ain’t no way t’ git rid
of me. I’m here, ma’am, an’ I don’t bear no ill will. I forgive ye
all, an’ I’m willin’ t’ let by-gones be by-gones, excipt one or two
things, which ye will have t’ change.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</SPAN></span>“The idea!” exclaimed Mrs. Fenelby. Bridget shrugged her shoulders.</p>
<p>“Have it yer own way, ma’am,” she said.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</SPAN></span> “I am not one that would
dictate t’ th’ lady of th’ house. I am no dictator, ma’am, an’ I
don’t wish t’ be, but here I am an’ here I stay, an’ ’tis no fault
of mine if some things riles me temper and makes me act as I
shouldn’t. I’m one that likes things t’ be peaceful, ma’am, for no
one knows how much row a girrl can make in th’ house better ’n than
I does, especially when she’s hired by th’ month an’ can’t be fired.
I can’t forget one Mrs. Grasset I worked for, ma’am, an’ her that
miserable an’ cryin’ all th’ time, just because I had one of me bad
timper spells. I should hate t’ have one of thim here, Mrs.
Fenelby.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Mr. Fenelby, controlling his righteous indignation as
best he could, “what is it you want?”</p>
<p>“I want no more of thim tariff doin’s!” said Bridget firmly. “Thim
tariff doin’s is more than mortal mind can stand, Mr. Fenelby, sir!
Nawthin’ I ever had t’ do with in anny of me places riled me up like
thim tariff doin’s, an’ we will have no more tariff in th’ house,
<i>if</i> ye please, sir.”</p>
<p>“Well, of all the impert—” began Mr. Fenelby angrily, but Mrs.
Fenelby <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</SPAN></span>put her hand on his arm and quieted him.</p>
<p>“Tom,” she said, “please be careful! You do not have to spend your
days with Bridget, and I do! Don’t be rash. Send her into the
kitchen until we talk it over.”</p>
<p>Bridget went, willingly. She gathered an armful of dishes, and went
into her throne-room, bearing her head high. She felt that she was
master and she was.</p>
<p>“Now, this Commonwealth—” began Mr. Fenelby, when the kitchen door
had closed, but Billy stopped him.</p>
<p>“Stop being foolish, Tom,” he said.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</SPAN></span> “What Commonwealth are you
talking about? This is not a Commonwealth—this is an unlimited
dictatorship, and Bridget is sole dictator! Wake up; don’t you know
a <i>coup d’état</i> when you see one? Can’t you tell a usurper by
sight?”</p>
<p>Mr. Fenelby looked moodily at the kitchen door.</p>
<p>“That is what it is,” said Billy decidedly. “The dictator has
smashed your republic under her iron heel; your laws are all back
numbers—if she wants any laws, she will let you know. I know the
signs. When a Great One rises up in the midst of a Republic and puts
her hands on her <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</SPAN></span>hips and says ‘What are you going to do about it?’
and there <i>isn’t</i> anything to do about it, you have a dictator, and
all that you can do is knuckle down and be good.”</p>
<p>There was a minute’s silence. The Commonwealth was dying hard.</p>
<p>“I could shake the money out of Bobberts’ bank,” said Mr. Fenelby,
but even as he said it Bobberts wailed. His voice arose clear and
strong in protest against that or against something else. The
kitchen door swung open and the Dictator ran in and approached the
Heir, and Bobberts held out his arms.</p>
<p>“Bless th’ darlin’,” said Bridget, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</SPAN></span>cuddling him in her arms, but
Mrs. Fenelby frowned.</p>
<p>“Give him to me,” she said sternly, and Bridget turned to her. And
then, in the eyes of all the Commonwealth, Bobberts turned his back
on his own mother and clung to the Dictator! Clung, and squealed,
until the danger of separation was over.</p>
<p>“You see!” said Billy, triumphantly.</p>
<p>Mrs. Fenelby sighed. The Dictator had won. The tariff was dead.</p>
<p>“And in our house,” said Kitty, cheerfully, “we won’t have any
tariff, will we, Billy?”</p>
<p>“Your house!” exclaimed Mrs. <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</SPAN></span>Fenelby, forgetting all about the
Dictator in the new interest, and brightening into herself again.</p>
<p>“Our house,” said Kitty proudly. “Mine and Billy’s.”</p>
<p>“Our house,” echoed Billy, blushing. “We can’t stand a Dictator, and
we are going to secede and—and have a United State of our own.”</p>
<hr class="medium" />
<p>“Isn’t it splendid about Kitty and Billy?” said Mrs. Fenelby that
evening to Tom, as they bent over Bobberts’ crib. “And if it hadn’t
been for our tariff driving them together I don’t believe it would
ever have happened.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</SPAN></span>“It’s fine!” said Mr. Fenelby. “Fine! And that
other set of Eugene Field will do for a wedding present!”</p>
<h3>THE END</h3>
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