tes on
their heads, and little looking-glasses about as big as a dollar
flashing between their ears.

Cousin E. E. wore the peacock dress and the brigandish hat. The parasol
had a red coral handle, and, to own the truth, no horse on the
race-ground looked faster than she did.

I followed her modestly. My pink silk seemed to grow brighter when it
settled down against her green and blue; my white hat was looped up on
one side with a white cockade, and the white feather streamed out banner
fashion. With me all was simplicity, patriotism, and whiteness--pure as
the distinguished individual of whom they were a delicate typification.

The drive up to that race-ground was just too lovely for anything. The
horses fairly flew. The wind just shook the white fringe on my parasol,
and kept my emblematical feather dancing after my hat. Cousin Dempster
drove, and that girl Cecilia sat high up on the front seat by him, with
her short dress ruffled and pinked about the bottom like a full-blown
poppy; her--well, ankles visible to the knees, and all her hair floating
out loose and crinkly. I say nothing, but ask you, as females of
experience, what kind of a woman will that stuck-up child make, in the
long run?

The race ground was gay as a general training when we got there. It had
rained lately; the trees and grass were green as green could be, and
thousands of red-birds, yellow-hammers, blue-jays, and golden-robins,
seemed to have settled down around the long tavern, the hill-side, and
under the old trees. I declare, the sight was beautiful.

Cousin D. had to show his badge and thing at the gate; then we drove up
to the long tavern with a dash, hopped gracefully out of the carriage,
and walked right in among the great crowd of gentlemen and ladies
chatting, laughing, and moving about the long stoop.

Sisters, I do try to be humble, but it is awful hard work. When I went
into that crowd, with my pink silk trailing and that white feather all
afloat, the whole congregation seemed to break into groups and hush up,
just to look at me. I didn't pretend to notice this delicate ovation,
but walked slowly forward, and with a becoming blush on my cheek, while
E. E. and that child kept bowing and shaking hands with everybody they
met.

After I had seated myself in one of the great splint-bottomed chairs
that stood in dozens on the stoop, the crowd felt at liberty to go on
again--and it did. A flock of birds couldn't have twittered and tit