"No, not the Policemen. They won't be around for a month yet."

Her hand dropped to his shoulder and her eyes searched his. To another
they might have seemed staring; to him they were only intent. "Poor pa;
he's like a ten-pin standing at the end of the alley, isn't he? They all
take a turn at him, don't they?"

"I'm afraid that's about it, Jennie." He smiled rather wanly again and
smoothed her hand with his own.

"Well, what else is there?" pondered Jane. "Is it the Afro-American
bishop raising the mortgage on their chapel?"

"No. I guess the Afro-Americans have about paid things off by this time."

"How lonesome they must leave you? H'm! is it the Michigan Avenue
Property Owners assessing you again to fight the choo-choo cars?"

Her father shook his head and almost laughed.

"Is it The Wives of the Presidents'? Is it 'The Mothers of Great Men'?"

"What a girl!" he said, and laughed aloud. It seemed as if he wanted to
laugh.

She eyed him narrowly. "There's only one thing more I can think of," she
declared, screwing up her mouth and her eyes. "But I sha'n't ask you
that--it's too silly. If I imagined for a moment that you could be
thinking about old Mother Van Horn--"