he brightly lighted
windows and the wide double glass doors the women trying on the gay
creations and hovering over the heaps of flowers and glittering
ornaments heaped upon the counters.

Jocelyn and David stood in the soft shadow of an old elm and while they
watched David explained the customers going in and coming out. He told
her that the tall straight woman buying the spray of purple lilacs for
her last year's hat was the Widow Green. The short, waddly woman
trying on the wide hat with the pink roses was Bessie Williams. The
tall girl with the pretty braids wound round her head was Bonnie Don,
big Steve Meckling's sweetheart. Steve, David explained, was so
foolishly in love that he was ready to commit murder if another lad so
much as looked at Bonnie.

The tall quiet man buying hats and ribbons for his girls was John
Foster. And the little bow-legged one, with the hard hat two sizes too
big, was Hen Tomlins who always went shopping with his wife.

So Green Valley made its purchases and hastened home to pack its lunch
basket and lay out all its clothes on the spare-room bed. Even as
David and Jocelyn walked home through the laughing streets, lights were
being winked out in the lower living rooms only to flash out somewhere
up-stairs where the family was wisely going to bed early. No one even
glanced at the sky, for it was taken for granted that Green Valley
skies would do their very best, as a matter of course.

When the last star began to fade and the first little breath of a new
morning ruffled the soft gray silence a sudden sharp volley rang out.
It was the Green Valley boys setting off cannon crackers in front of
the bank. And it must be said right here that that first signal volley
was about all the fireworks ever indulged in in Green Valley. This
little town, nestling in the peaceful shelter of gentle hills and
softly singing woods, naturally disliked harsh, ugly sounds and was
moreover far too thrifty, too practical and sane a community to put
firearms and flaming death into the hands of its children. Green
Valley patriotism was of a higher order.

At that sharp volley Green Valley awoke with a start and a laugh and
ran to put flags on its gateposts and porch pillars and loop bunting
around its windows. And when the morning broke like a great pink rose
and shed its rosy light over the dimpling hills and lacy, misty
woodlands the old town was a-flutter with banners, everybody was about
throu