cheerily smiling, and yet so earnest in their welcome to her. No one was
afraid to "let out" his voice; their song went full and strong over the
waking town, and when it was finished the ball was over, too.

The veranda and the path to the gate became like tropic gardens, the fair
colors of the women's dresses, ballooning in the early breeze, making the
place seem strewn with giant blossoms. They all went away at the same
time, those in carriages calling farewells to each other and to the little
processions departing on foot in different directions to homes near by.
The sound of the voices and laughter drew away, slowly died out
altogether, and the silence of the street was strange and unfamiliar to
Betty. She went to the hedge and watched the musicians, who were the last
to go, until they passed from sight: little black toilsome figures,
carrying grotesque black boxes. While she could still see them, it seemed
to her that her ball was not quite over, and she wished to hold the least
speck of it as long as she could; but when they had disappeared, she faced
the truth with a deep sigh: the long, glorious night was finished indeed.

What she needed now was another girl: the two would have gone to Betty's
room and danced it all over again until noon; but she had only her father.
She found him smoking a Principe cigar upon the veranda, so she seated
herself timidly, nevertheless with a hopeful glance at him, on the steps
at his feet; and, as she did so, he looked down upon her with something
more akin to geniality than anything she had ever seen in his eye before.
It was not geniality itself, but might be third cousin to it. Indeed, in
his way, he was almost proud of her, though he had no wish to show it.
Since one was compelled to display the fact that one possessed a grown
daughter, it was well that she be like this one.

They did not know each other very well, and she often doubted that they