it's Southern." Miss Gibbie's broad-brimmed hat was straightened, the
crumpled ribbons smoothed, the plump cheeks kissed. "And if I didn't
have dinner at two o'clock I couldn't have supper at seven. Thin ham and
beaten biscuits and salads and iced tea and summer things like that are
much nicer then meats and vegetables and desserts on warm nights. I'm
not stylish. I'm just Mary Cary, who loves old-fashioned ways and
things."

"Old-fashioned /ways/ and /things!/" Miss Gibbie's hands
went up. "To-morrow all Yorkburg will be calling you a young woman of
shocking ideas, one who actually knows something about business,
about the town's financial condition and the things it needs and should
have. You will be served at breakfast, dinner, and supper; held up as an
example of the pernicious effects of higher education followed by
foreign travel. To-night you are going to do what has never been done
here before, and who is going to imagine you love old-fashioned ways and
things? A woman has never crossed the threshold of Yorkburg's Council
Chamber--"

"A good many are going to cross it to-night."

Miss Gibbie, who had started to the door, turned. "You mean a good
many have promised. A very different thing. Women are cowards when
it comes to a change of custom. They like their little cages. They would
rather stay in and look on than come out and help. Don't expect too
much of them. They have so long thought as men told them God intended
them to think that it will take time for them to realize the Almighty
may not object to their inquiring if they're thinking right or not.
Good-bye, child. If any fireworks go off, keep your head and send up
a few yourself. Heavens, if I were young!"