Hastings--I'm going to keep my eyes and ears on the
alert, too."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE GARDEN FETE
It was a perfect evening--the very last of the perfect June days.
Chelton lay like a contented babe in Nature's lap--contented, but
not asleep, for it was the evening of the masked garden fete.
The bright-colored lanterns throughout the spacious grounds of the
Kimball home flickered like eager fireflies, and the splendid
dancing platform, erected on the broad lawn, fairly glistened with
its coat of wax under the strings of tiny electric lights that
canopied the pavilion.
It was not deemed necessary to have any one at the gate. In Chelton
there were not many strangers and suppose some urchins did enter,
Cora said, it would be a pity to deny them a glimpse of the pretty
sight.
A tall Antonio, in a garb of the most somber black, strolled about,
hoping to find his Portia. Priscilla was there, in her collar and
cap, but where was John Alden? Would the dainty little Bo-peep, who
looked like a bisque doll, ever find her straying sheep?
Then motor "togs"--a long linen duster, with a cap and
goggles--seemed a most convenient mask for so many young men, who
were not vain enough to want to don doublet and hose.
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