Laura laughed: "Wait till we get the vote and we'll have equality, won't we, Fred?"
"You bet we will!"
"You won't," Weston assured them, "because there ain't no such thing. My dear infants, the Lord made us different, and no vote can change His arrangements."
"That's what Mother said; I was quite astonished to have Mother pull off an opinion on me," Fred said.
"Your mother has a great many opinions, and mighty sensible ones, too."
She gave him a surprised look, like a child catching an older person in a foolish statement. "Oh, well," she said, "of course, it's hard for people of your generation to keep up with the procession."
If he flinched, nobody saw it. "You being the 'procession,' I suppose?" he said, raising an amiable eyebrow—but he did not feel amiable. Then he looked at his watch and said he must start.
"Oh, don't go!" Fred entreated.
"You two girls ought to be in bed," he said. They went with him and watched him crank his machine; as he threw in the clutch, he called back, a little anxiously, "Make her loaf, Laura! She's tired."