CHAPTER V.

FOURTH OF JULY.


The first of July came, and with it the summer heat. Hugh hung up a
hammock in the second story hall, between the north and south windows,
so as to catch every wandering zephyr; and, armed with a book, he
betook himself to this airy retreat for the purpose of study. At least
that was his announcement at the breakfast-table. "For the purpose of
sleep?" suggested Sibyl. "Day-dreaming!" said Bessie. "Lazying!" said
Tom, coining a word for the occasion with true American versatility.

"Very well, fellow-citizens, laugh on," said Hugh; "these are the last
strawberries of the season, and I have no inclination to discuss
anything at present but their sweetness. But I will venture to assert
that at six o'clock this evening I shall have imbibed more knowledge
in that very hammock then any of you in your prosy chairs."

"I shall go and see Miss Skede about my white dresses," said Sibyl,
rising.

"Not this warm morning," exclaimed Bessie.

"The very time. I could not have chosen a better day. Miss Skede has
no imagination; she can _never_ lift herself beyond the present. If I
had gone to her in June, she would have made my dresses heavy, in