"Well, I wouldn't!" Sally protested in a sudden burst. "Being in an
office would KILL me, I think! I just couldn't do it! But I believe
I COULD manage a little house, and children, and I'd like that! I
wouldn't mind being poor--I never really think of being anything
else--but what I'm so afraid of is that Len'll marry and we'll just
be--just be AUNTS!"

Such vehemence was not usual to Sally, and as her earnestness
brought her to a full stop on the sidewalk, the two sisters found
themselves facing each other. They burst into a joyous laugh, as
their eyes met, and the full absurdity of the conversation became
apparent.

Still giggling, they went on their way, past the old smithy, where a
pleasant breath of warmth and a splendid ringing of hammers came
from the forge, and past the new garage of raw wood with the still-
astonishing miracle of a "horseless carriage" in its big window,
pots of paint and oil standing inside its door, and workmen, behind
a barrier of barrels and planks, laying a cement sidewalk in front.
They passed the Five-and-Ten-Cent Store, its unwashed windows jammed
with pyramids of dry-looking chocolates, post cards, and jewellery,
and festoons of trashy embroidery, and the corner fruit stands
heaped with tomatoes and sprawling grapes. At the Palace Candy Store
a Japanese boy in his shirt-sleeves was washing the show window,
which was empty except for some rumpled sheets of sun-faded pink
crepe paper. By the door stood two large wooden buckets for packing
ice cream. The ice and salt were melted now, and the empty moulds,
still oozing a little curdled pink cream, were floating in the dirty
water.