houses, I would suggest a dance afterwards, but I couldn't answer for
the walls and roof if two young Americans danced a two-step in the
parlor."

"I am sure a two-step is no rougher than one of these storms of wind and
rain," observed Miss Campbell, feeling a sudden loyalty toward everything
American, including dances.

O'Haru was informed of the party and the house became at once a beehive
of activity. Several of the little maids, without being told, took down
all the dresses in the wardrobes and began drying them out with square
boxes of red embers.

"I'd like to be done the same way," remarked Miss Campbell. "I think I am
just as mildewed as my clothes."

The kitchen quarters of the house fairly vibrated with the stir of
preparation. In the living rooms the air was dried with small charcoal
stoves. The gardener was seen bringing in armfuls of flowers; and with
all the activity and preparation, there was no noise, not a sound. It
was positively uncanny.

Late in the afternoon Nancy slipped away from this noiseless busy scene
and tripped demurely down a garden path toward the bridge. She was not
exactly bent on mischief but she wanted to satisfy her curiosity about
something. The rain had lessened considerably but it was still necessary
for her to protect her recently arranged curls with her small blue silk
umbrella. In her mackintosh of changeable silk in two shades of blue, she
made a charming picture coming down the rain-soaked path. The garden
itself was a thing of beauty. On the end of every pine needle hung a