rocker. "There must
be one thousand things I ought to be doing," she said, resting her head
and shutting her eyes.

It was a warm, delicious afternoon. The little California town lay
asleep under a haze of golden sunshine. The Carews' pretty house, with
its lawn and garden, was almost the last on River Street, and stood on
the <DW72> of a hill that commanded all Santa Paloma Valley. Below it,
the wide tree-shaded street descended between other unfenced lawns and
other handsome homes.

This was the aristocratic part of the town. The Willard Whites' immense
colonial mansion was here; and the Whites, rich, handsome, childless,
clever, and nearing the forties, were quite the most prominent people
of Santa Paloma. The Wayne Adamses, charming, extravagant young people,
lived near; and the Parker Lloyds, who were suspected of hiding rather
serious money troublesBrown said reflectively. "Well,
well, ladies, here's a chance for Santa Paloma to put her best foot
forward."

"What WON'T she do to the Hall!" Mrs. Adams remarked; Mrs. Carew sighed.

"It--it rather staggers one to think of trying to entertain a woman
worth eight millions, doesn't it?" said she.




CHAPTER V

From the moment of her arrival in Santa Paloma, when she stood on the
station platform with a brisk spring wind blowing her veil about her
face, and a small and chattering girl on each side of her, Mrs.
Burgoyne seemed inclined to meet the friendly overtures of her new
neighbors more than half-way. She remembered the baggage-agent's name
from her visit two weeks before--"thank Mr. Roberts for his trouble,
Ellen"--and met the aged driver of the one available carriage with a
ready "Good afternoon, Mr. Rivers!" Within a week