“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, the grand stand opposite, the shops, and the bank, all fluttered with gay colors.  Children shouted and scampered everywhere; gathered in fascinated groups about the ice-cream and candy and popcorn booths that sprang up at every corner; met arriving cousins and aunts at the train; ran on last-minute errands.  Occasionally a whole package of exploding firecrackers smote the warm still air.

By half-past ten every window on the line of march, every dooryard and porch, had its group of watchers.  Wagons and motor-cars, from the surrounding villages and ranches, blocked the side streets.  It was very warm, and fans and lemonade had a lively sale.

From the two available windows of the Mail office, three persons, as eager as the most eager child, watched the gathering crowds, and waited for the Flower Parade.  They were Mrs. Apostleman, stately in black lace, and regally fanning, Sidney Burgoyne, looking her very prettiest in crisp white, with a scarlet scarf over her arm, and Barry Valentine, who looked unusually festive himself in white flannels.  All three were in wild spirits.

“Hark, here they come!” said Sidney at last, drawing her head in from a long inspection of the street.  She had been waving and calling greetings in every direction for a pleasant half-hour.  Now eleven had boomed from the town-hall clock, and a general restlessness and wiltedness began to affect the waiting crowds.

Barry immediately dangled almost his entire length across the window sill, and screwed his person about for a look.

“H’yar dey come, li’l miss, sho’s yo’ bawn!” he announced joyfully.  “There’s the band!”