went slowly upstairs. Her mother, almost tearful, met her at the
top, and whispered, "You mustn't mind, dearie."

"Mustn't mind what?" Alice asked, and then, as she went on her
way, laughed scornfully. "What utter nonsense!" she said.

Next day she cut the stems of the rather scant show of carnations
and refreshed them with new water. At dinner, her father, still
in high spirits, observed that she had again "dressed up" in
honour of his second descent of the stairs; and Walter repeated
his fragment of objectionable song; but these jocularities were
rendered pointless by the eventless evening that followed; and in
the morning the carnations began to appear tarnished and flaccid.

Alice gave them a long look, then threw them away; and neither
Walter nor her father was inspired to any rallying by her plain
costume for that evening. Mrs. Adams was visibly depressed.

When Alice finished helping her mother with the dishes, she went
outdoors and sat upon the steps of the little front veranda. The
night, gentle with warm air from the south, surrounded her
pleasantly, and the perpetual smoke was thinner. Now that the
furnaces of dwelling-houses were no longer fired, life in that
city had begun to be less like life in a railway tunnel; people
were aware of summer in the air, and in the thickened foliage of
the shade-trees, and in the sky. Stars were unveiled by the
passing of the denser smoke fogs, and to-night they could be seen
clearly; they looked warm and near. Other girls sat upon
verandas and stoops in Alice's street, cheerful as young
fishermen along the banks of a stream.