Hetty was studying in a dramatic school; there was a baby; there
were financial troubles, and Barry was drinking again; then Hetty
was dead, and Barry, fearing the severe eastern winters for the
delicate baby, was coming back to Santa Paloma. So back they came,
and there had been no indication since, that the restless, ambitious
Barry of years ago was not dead forever.

"No smoking?" said Barry now, good-naturedly. "That's so; you've got
some sort of 'High Jinks' on for to-night, haven't you? I brought up
those hinges for your mixing table, Jen," he went on, "but any time
will do. I suppose the kitchen is right on the fault, as it were."

"The kitchen DOES look earthquakey," admitted Mrs. Carew with a
laugh, "but the girls would be glad to have the extra table; so go
right ahead. I'll take you out in a second. I have been on the GO,"
she added wearily, "since seven this morning: my feet are like balls
of fire. You don't know what the details are. Why, just tying up the
prizes takes a good HOUR!"

"Anything go wrong?" asked the man sympathetically.

"Oh, no; nothing particular. But you know how a house has to LOOK!
Even the bathrooms, and our room, and the spare room--the children
do get things so mussed. It all sounds so simple; but it takes such
a time."

"Well, Annie--doesn't she do these things?"

"Oh, ordinarily she does! But she was sweeping all morning, we moved
things about so last night, and there was china, and glasses to get