simply said, 'Clara, I can't afford it!' and let it go at that. She
laughed--quite cattily, Parker!--and said, 'Oh, that's rather
funny!' But I don't care whether Clara White thinks I'm copying Mrs.
Burgoyne or not! I might as well copy her as somebody else!"

Mrs. Burgoyne and Barry Valentine went down-town on the evening of
the great day, to see the fireworks and the crowds, and to hear the
announcements of prize-winners. Santa Paloma was in holiday mood,
and the two entered into the spirit of the hour like irresponsible
children. It was a warm, wonderful summer night; the sky was close
and thickly spangled with stars. Main Street bobbed with Japanese
lanterns, rang with happy voices and laughter. The jostling, pushing
currents of men in summer suits, and joyous girls in thin gowns,
were all good-natured. Sidney found friends on all sides, and
laughed and called her greetings as gaily as anyone.

Barry had a rare opportunity to watch her unobserved, as she went
her happy way; the earnest happy brightness in her eyes, when some
shabby little woman from Old Paloma laid a timid hand on her arm,
her adoring interest in the fat babies that slumbered heavily on
paternal shoulders, her ready use of names, "Isn't this fun,
Agnes?"--"You haven't lost Harry, have you, Mrs. O'Brien?"--"Don't
you and your friend want to come and have some ice-cream with us,
Josie?"

"But we mustn't waste too much time here, Barry," she would say now
and then; for at eight o'clock a "grand concert program and
distribution of prizes" was scheduled to take place at the town
hall, and Sidney was anxious not to miss an instant of it. "Don't
worry, I'll get you there!" Barry would answer reassuringly, amused