ted. She held up her garden hat. "And my
gown!" She looked down at her frail silk flounces. Was ever any woman
seen on the street like this!

"Oh, la, la, la," he cut her short. "We can't stop to dress the part.
You'll forget 'em."

She smiled at him suddenly, looked back at the house, put on her
hat--the garden hat. The moment she had dreaded was upon her. In spite
of her warning reason, in spite of everything, she was going with him.

Beyond the looming roofs as they descended the hill she saw white sails
sink out of sight. All the little panorama upon which she had looked
down sprang up around her, large and living. He whistled to the car as
he helped her down the last steep pitch, whistled and waved, and they
ran for it. No time for back-looking, no time now for a faint heart.
Before she knew they were fairly crowded into the narrow front seat, and
the long street was running up to them and streaming by.

This was never the car one went out the front door to take. This creaked
and crawled low, taking the corners comfortably, past houses with all
their windows blinking recognition. Hadn't it passed them so for twenty
years? Old houses in long gardens, and little houses creeping back
behind their yards, not yet encroached upon by fresher ties of living.
Past all these and gliding down under high, ragged banks, green grass
above with wooden stairways straggling up their naked faces; past these
again; past lower levels; past little gray and cluttered houses; past
loaded carts of vegetables; past children playing shrilly, bearing down
always on the green square of the plaza wide, worn and foreign, and the
Greek church "domed" with blue and yellow, bearing down as if it had
fairly determined to make its course straight through this stable
center. Then in the very shadow it swerved aside to clatter off in quite
another direction along a wider street with whiter shops, and more
glittering windows with gilded letters flashing foreign names, with more
marked and brilliant colors moving in the crowd, with a clearer stamp on
all of Latin living.

Then suddenly for them the sliding panorama ceased. The car had stopped
and they had left it, and were standing upon the corner of a still
street that came down from the high hills behind them and crossed the
car-track and climbed again a little way to curve over into the sky.
Dingy houses two blocks above them stood silhouetted against the blue.
They were walking upward toward th