lor
of buttercups, her eyes are cornflowers and her cheeks----"

But here Mrs. Burton's flow of imagery had been stopped by Mrs.
Webster's protest.

"Please don't be so absurd, Polly. You know conversation of that
character merely strikes me as foolish." So Mrs. Burton had laughed and
the subject of Gerry was dismissed.

Gerry was becoming aware of a change in her own life, not in her mere
appearance, but in a way far deeper. There were moments when she even
hoped her own drab, lonely existence was past forever and that a life as
radiant as these past weeks would endure. She tried not to hope too much
from Felipe's manner and the kind things he said to her now and then. Of
course she was too young for him to think of seriously. Nevertheless
Gerry could not refrain from occasionally seeing a happy image of
herself at the old ranch with Felipe and his father!

In her dream the old house was not in its present dilapidated condition,
but had been made beautiful and luxurious following the plans which
Felipe had more than once confided to her.

For always he talked of beautifying his old home and of his music and
travel and of other delightful things, but never of war, or
self-sacrifice, or hard work.

Felipe had not been informed whether his claim for exemption from war
service had been accepted, and yet he seemed to regard the matter as
settled.

So Gerry also forgot what was going on in the world about them, forgot
what was being required of other young men, even though she had daily
talks with the soldiers.

But at last the night for the public performance of "As You Like It"
arrived.

The Camp Fire girls had not erred in their prediction that their
guardian's reputation was sufficient to insure them a large audience.
Mrs. Burton had secured the aid of a well-known California actor, Arthur
Whitney, to play _Orlando_ to her _Rosalind_. For the past two weeks he
had been living in one of the hotels near the open-air theater, where he
had many friends.

In the neighboring cities and towns the newspapers had devoted columns
of unpaid advertising to notices of the play and the opportunity it
afforded for seeing the famous American actress. Added to this was the
fact that the proceeds from the performance were to be devoted to the
recreation fund for the boys in the southern California cantonment.

Long before the night of the performance, every ticket of admission to
the theater had been sold, and as much stand