"But why, uncle? I'm strong for her! She sounds to me like just what our family needs."
He gave her a glance over his glasses—that delighted Katie, too; she had long ago learned that when her uncle felt occasion demand he look like a bishop he lowered his chin and looked over his glasses.
"Well our family may need something; it's the first intimation I've had, Katherine, that it's in distress—but I don't see that a young woman who votes is the crying need of the family."
"She's in great luck," returned Katie, "to live in a State where she can vote."
He held up his hands. "Katie? You?"
"Oh I haven't prowled around this town all summer, uncle, without seeing things that women ought to be voting about."
He stared at her. "Well, Katie, you—you don't mean to take it up, do you?"
He looked so unhappy that she laughed. "Oh I don't know, uncle, what I mean to 'take up,' but I herewith serve notice that I'm going to take something up—something besides bridge and army gossip."
She looked at him reflectively. "Uncle, does it ever come home to you that life's a pretty serious business?"
"Well I hadn't wanted it to come home to me tonight," he sighed plaintively. "I'm really most upset about this unfortunate affair. I had thought that you, Katie, would be pleasant."