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210 It was nine o'clock before the last rocket in the empty lot beside the Harveys' shot skyward, burst into three floating stars, and fell with a muffled thud in the long grass. It was half-past nine before a troop of timid breezes came stealing up from the meadow, and stealthily found their way to the Harveys' side porch.

The Harveys were all there, the boys stretched full length upon the close-cropped lawn, the girls leaning languidly back in the big porch-chairs, the grandchildren, too tired even for occasional firecrackers, gathered on the steps, arms clasped about their knees—they were all there except Mr. Harvey. He, as usual, had disappeared immediately after the sandwich supper, "out of patience," he had remarked, "with such nonsense." He had been sound asleep now for nearly two hours.

At present the rhythmic squeak of Mrs. Harvey's chair was the only sound to be heard upon the porch as she rocked energetically back and forth in her corner by the railing. She was the only one of the little group who didn't appear utterly exhausted.

"Why, there's a breeze!" she ejaculated cheerfully. "It'll be cooler now. We always do get the breeze on this porch! Now, you children all stay here as long as you want. I guess I'll go