windows screened and awninged. Mrs. Heth went dashing from one bit of
generalship to another, and telephoned ten thousand times a day.
Nevertheless she kept eyes in her head, and accordingly she observed to
Mr. Heth one starlit night, as they sat _a deux_ on the little front
balcony where flowering window-boxes so refinedly concealed one from the
public view:

"I never saw a girl so absolutely naive about showing her feelings. She
began to droop the minute he left the house, and hasn't been her natural
self since.... Irritable!--till you can't say good morning without her
snapping your head off."

"Maybe, it's the weather," suggested Mr. Heth, who wore a white flannel
suit and fanned himself with a dried palm-leaf. "And I reckon, too,
she's feeling sorry to leave her old father for such a long time. Four
months--hio!"

"Cally's not the girl to get black rings under her eyes for things like
that."

She added presently: "It's a pure love-match, which is naturally a
gratification to me, who brought the whole thing about. 'Thank God,
Cally, you've got a mother,' I said to her only the other day. But I do
say there's such a thing as carrying love just a little too far."

Cally, meantime, while affecting no interest in summer clothes for
chairs, kept as closely occupied with her own affairs, social activities
and preparations for the brilliant absence, as mamma did with hers. Much
time went, too, to her correspondence with Canning, who wrote her daily
fat delightful letters, all breathing ardent anticipation of her