was small. In consequence, Mrs. Pryor was displeased.

"Mercy, but it's warm in here," said Mrs. Tate, going to a window and
opening wide its shutters. "I had no idea it would be as hot as this
to-day, though you can nearly always look for heat in May." She
slapped her hands together in an attempt to kill a fly that was following
her, then stood a moment at the window looking up and down the street.

"Wish to goodness I could have one of those electric fans like Miss
Gibbie Gault's got," she went on, coming back to her seat and wiping
her face with Mrs. Webb's handkerchief, which happened to be closest
to her; "but wishing and getting are not on speaking terms in our
house. Have any of you seen Miss Gibbie's new hat?"

"I have." Mrs. Moon took up the large braidbound palm-leaf fan lying
on the chair next to her and began to use it in leisurely, rhythmic
strokes. "She has five others exactly like it. She says she would have
ordered ten, but when a person has passed the sixty-fifth birthday the
chances are against ten being used, and six years ahead are sufficient
provision for hats. Five of them are put away in camphor."

"Imagine ordering hats for years ahead just to save trouble! I'm
thankful to have one for immediate use." Mrs. Corbin put down the
work on which she had not been sewing and folded her arms. "Miss
Gibbie may be queer, but there's a lot of sense in deciding on a
certain style and sticking to it. Fashions come and fashions go, but
never is she bothered. Just think of the peace of mind sacrificed to
clothes!"

"Who but Miss Gibbie would wear the same kind year after year, year