thinks I'm copying Mrs. Burgoyne or not! I might as well
copy her as somebody else!"

Mrs. Burgoyne and Barry Valentine went down-town on the evening of the
great day, to see the fireworks and the crowds, and to hear the
announcements of prize-winners. Santa Paloma was in holiday mood, and
the two entered into the spirit of the hour like irresponsible
children. It was a warm, wonderful summer night; the sky was close and
thickly spangled with stars. Main Street bobbed with Japanese lanterns,
rang with happy voices and laughter. The jostling, pushing currents of
men in summer suits, and joyous girls in thin gowns, were all
good-natured. Sidney found friends on all sides, and laughed and called
her greetings as gaily as anyone.

Barry had a rare opportunity to watch her unobserved, as she went her
happy way; the earnest happy brightness in her eyes, when some shabby
little woman from Old Paloma laid a timid hand on her arm, her adoring
interest in the fat babies that slumbered heavily on paternal
shoulders, her ready use of names, "Isn't this fun, Agnes?"--"You
haven't lost Harry, have you, Mrs. O'Brien?"--"Don't you and your
friend want to come and have some ice-cream with us, Josie?"

"But we mustn't waste too much time here, Barry," she would say now and
then; for at eight o'clock a "grand concert program and distribution of
prizes" was scheduled to take place at the town hall, and Sidney was
anxious not to miss an instant of it. "Don't worry, I'll get you
there!" Barry would answer reassuringly, amused at her eagerness.

And true to his word, he stopped her at the wide doorway of the concert
hall, fully five minutes before the hour, and they found themselves
joining the slow stream of men and women and children that was pouring
up the wide, dingy stairway. Everyone was trying, in all good humor, to
press ahead of everyone else, inspired with the sudden agonizing
conviction that in the next two minutes every desirable seat would
certainly be gone. Even Sidney, familiar as she was with every grand
opera house in the world, felt the infection, and asked rather
nervously if any of the seats were reserved.

"Don't worry; we'll get seats," said the imperturbable Barry, and
several children in their neighborhood laughed out in sudden exquisite
relief.

Seats indeed there were, although the front rows were filling fast, and
all the aisle-chairs were taken by squirming, restless small children.
Mrs. Burgoyne sat down,