FOURTH OF JULY.
The first of July came, and with it the summer heat. Hugh hung up a hammock in the second story hall, between the north and south windows, so as to catch every wandering zephyr; and, armed with a book, he betook himself to this airy retreat for the purpose of study. At least that was his announcement at the breakfast-table. "For the purpose of sleep?" suggested Sibyl. "Day-dreaming!" said Bessie. "Lazying!" said Tom, coining a word for the occasion with true American versatility.
"Very well, fellow-citizens, laugh on," said Hugh; "these are the last strawberries of the season, and I have no inclination to discuss anything at present but their sweetness. But I will venture to assert that at six o'clock this evening I shall have imbibed more knowledge in that very hammock then any of you in your prosy chairs."
"I shall go and see Miss Skede about my white dresses," said Sibyl, rising.
"Not this warm morning," exclaimed Bessie.
"The very time. I could not have chosen a better day. Miss Skede has no imagination; she can never lift herself beyond the present. If I had gone to her in June, she would have made my dresses heavy, in spite of all my orders and descriptions. Even yesterday, for instance, she would have been unable to conceive anything more than half-way effects; but to-day it is so warm that the heat may inspire her, and I hope to get out of her something as flowing and delicate as a summer cloud."
"I see now, Sibyl, where all your poetry goes," said Hugh, laughing; "the puffs and ruffles get it all!"
"Fortunately Graham has enough for two," said Bessie, looking up with a malicious smile.
But Sibyl's temper was never ruffled: "I like Graham, as you know, Bessie. You, also, have your likes and dislikes, but I do not tease you about them."
"That is true, Sibyl," said Bessie, warmly; "you certainly have the best disposition in the family. I wish I had half your amiability."