room--" she began happily.

Another brief conversation, this time between George Carew and his
wife, was indicative of a certain change of view-point that was
affecting the women of Santa Paloma in these days. Mr. Carew, coming
home one evening, found a very demure and charming figure seated on the
porch. Mrs. Carew's gown was simplicity itself: a thin, dotted, dark
blue silk, with a deep childish lace collar and cuffs.

"You look terribly sweet, Jen," said Mr. Carew; "you look out of
sight." And when he came downstairs again, and they were at dinner, he
returned to the subject with, "Jen, I haven't seen you look so sweet
for a long time. What is that, a new dress? Is that for the reception
on the Fourth? Jen, didn't you have a dress like that when we were
first married?"

"Sorrel made this, and it only cost sixty dollars," said Mrs. Carew.

"Well, get her to make you another," her husband said approvingly. At
which Mrs. Carew laughed a little shakily, and came around the table,
and put her arms about him and said:

"Oh, George, you dear old BAT! Miss Pomeroy made this, upstairs here,
in three days, and the silk cost nine dollars. I DID have a dress like
this in my trousseau--my first silk--and I thought it was wonderful;
and I think you're a darling to remember it; and I AM going to wear
this on the Fourth. It's nice enough, isn't it?"

"Nice enough! You'll be the prettiest woman there," stated Mr. Carew
positively.

CHAPTER XIII

The earliest daylight of July Fourth found Santa Paloma already astir.
Dew was heavy on the ropes of flowers and greens, and the flags and
bunting that made brilliant all the line of the day's march; and long
scarfs of fog lingered on the hills, but for all that, and despite the
delicious fragrant chill of the morning air, nobody doubted that the
day would be hot and cloudless, and the evening perfect for fireworks.
Lawn-sprinklers began to whir busily in the sweet shaded gardens long
before the sunlight reached them; windows and doors were flung open to
the air; women, sweeping garden-paths and sidewalks with gay energy,
called greetings up and down the street to one another. Chairs were
dragged out-of-doors; limp flags began to stir in the sunny air; other
flags squeakily mounted their poles. At every window bunting showed;
the schoolhouse was half-hidden in red, white, and blue; the women's
clubhouse was festooned with evergreens and Japanese lanterns; and the
Mail office,