"
Poor Priscilla really did her best to comprehend. She stopped her
knitting for a moment, put her knitting-pin to her lips, and answered
very slowly and solemnly "Ye-es."
"Ah; but I know when you say 'Ye-es' like that you do not
understand."
"I do understand," she retorted, with a little asperity.
"Well then, repeat it, and let us see."
"No, I shall not."
"Dear Priscilla, I am not vexed: but I only wanted to make it quite
plain to you. The duty on foreign corn is a tax in favour of the
farmer, or perhaps the landlord, just as distinctly as if the tax-
collector carried the coin from our till and gave it them."
"Of course it is quite plain," she responded, making a bold stroke
for her life. "Of course it is quite plain we are taxed"--George's
face grew bright, for he thought the truth had dawned upon her--
"because the farmers have to pay the duty on foreign corn."
He took up his newspaper, held it open so as to cover his face, was
silent for a few minutes, and then, pulling out his watch, declared
it was time to go to bed. She gathered up her netting, looked at him
doubtfully as she passed, and went upstairs.
The roof of George's house had a kind of depression or well in the
middle of it, whence ran a rainwater pipe, which passed down inside,
and so, under the floor, to the soft-water cistern.
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