Another brief conversation, this time between George Carew and his
wife, was indicative of a certain change of view-point that was
affecting the women of Santa Paloma in these days. Mr. Carew, coming
home one evening, found a very demure and charming figure seated on
the porch. Mrs. Carew's gown was simplicity itself: a thin, dotted,
dark blue silk, with a deep childish lace collar and cuffs.

"You look terribly sweet, Jen," said Mr. Carew; "you look out of
sight." And when he came downstairs again, and they were at dinner,
he returned to the subject with, "Jen, I haven't seen you look so
sweet for a long time. What is that, a new dress? Is that for the
reception on the Fourth? Jen, didn't you have a dress like that when
we were first married?"

"Sorrel made this, and it only cost sixty dollars," said Mrs. Carew.

"Well, get her to make you another," her husband said approvingly.
At which Mrs. Carew laughed a little shakily, and came around the
table, and put her arms about him and said:

"Oh, George, you dear old BAT! Miss Pomeroy made this, upstairs
here, in three days, and the silk cost nine dollars. I DID have a
dress like this in my trousseau--my first silk--and I thought it was
wonderful; and I think you're a darling to remember it; and I AM
going to wear this on the Fourth. It's nice enough, isn't it?"

"Nice enough! You'll be the prettiest woman there," stated Mr. Carew
positively.