building bar-rooms in Spain, my dear chap; you are blowing mere
soap-bubbles."

"And why not?" cried his friend. "Bishop Chuff has called me a
soap-box orator. At any rate, a man who stands upon a soap-box is
nearer heaven by several inches than the man who stands upon the
ground."

Theodolinda's face sparkled with the impact of an idea.

"Come," she said, "it's not impossible after all. I have a
thought. We'll offer Father an armistice and talk things over with
him. He doesn't know what straits we're in, and maybe we can bring
him to terms. He was very badly scared by those gooseberry bombs,
and maybe we can bluff him into a concession."

"If we had had any luck," said Quimbleton, "we would have blown
him into a concussion. But anyway, that's a bonny scheme. We'll
grant him a truce. Bleak, you're a newspaper man, just get hold of
the United Press and let them know the armistice is signed."

Bleak smiled wanly at the thrust.

"All right," he said. "Let's go. But what's your idea, Miss Chuff?
We must have something to base negotiations on."

"Wait and see," she cried gayly. "We'll talk it over as we go
along."

Mrs. Bleak aroused her children, who had fallen asleep, and