"Monopolies can never be prevented," Gorham answered, seriously, "but I hope that my action to-morrow will go far toward forcing their control. You and I have seen the impossibility of trying to make them change their spots. I thought I had solved the problem, but I was wrong. Far ahead in the future, beyond the point which our present vision reaches, perhaps the solution lies. Until it is found, the Government must protect itself and the people it represents."
"Please fix it so as to make one exception," the boy pleaded. As Gorham looked at him for explanation, he drew Alice closely to him. "Please let this monopoly be exempt from governmental interference."
A stifled sob, entirely out of place in the presence of such general rejoicing, came from a little human ball rolled up on the steps below them. Eleanor and Allen quickly sprang toward her, but the boy better understood Patricia's tears. He sat beside her, and wrapped his great arms around her.
"Don't cry, Lady Pat," he entreated.
"I can't help it," she moaned. "I haven't any Sir Launcelot, and you haven't stormed the castle, and I've lost my silken ladder, and I want to die so that I can go up to heaven and be mean to the angels."
"Oh, no, no!" he begged. "I've tried to think it all out, and the only thing I can do is to cut myself in two pieces the way King Solomon decided to do with the baby. Do you remember?"
"But he didn't do it," replied Patricia, showing surprising knowledge of the Scriptures.
"Well, I haven't done it yet—but I will if you say so."
"Will you really?" The child's mind was already diverted from its tragedy. "But then you couldn't wear armor or ride a horse, or storm a castle, or do any of those things."
"Not without messing everything all up," Allen admitted, sorrowfully; "but that's the best thing I can think of."