in the back occasionally, the better to give him the benefit of some extra clever sally.
She certainly looks out of sight, commented Gladys.
O, I don't know, Doris corrected her, adding that if people dressed that way in Paris she was glad she lived in Maple Valley. It might at least be all one colour, she went on. That fan certainly clashes with the colour of the dress.
What'd ma say if we wore dresses as low as that? Gladys demanded.
It don't cut no ice what she'd say because we don't want to wear 'em, responded Doris.
O, look at Mrs. Cameron! Those marigolds! Cheap garden flowers!
She ain't the only pebble on the beach! Look at Alfreda Mitchell!
My trilbys hurt; I wish they'd begin.
Lennie Colman, sitting with her mother far in the rear, was silent. She gazed alternately at Gareth and at the Countess. After a full day spent in preserving fruit, Mrs. Colman was so tired that she had almost fallen asleep. Her eyelids drooped and her jaw began to unhinge. Periodically, she would wake up with a start and her features would freeze into a fixed smile. Then she would begin to nod again.
The orchestra having concluded its rendering of the King Cotton March, the entertainment began. The only man music teacher in Maple Valley, Pro-
