"Mother Boswell, you've got to come out on the porch—just one minute—and look."
"No, no, child, I can't. I——"
"Not where the folks are—just out on Mr. Perkins's balcony. He told me to take you."
"But I can't leave——"
"Yes, you can. Everything's all right. Come—quick. The first autos are coming—you can see 'em miles off."
With one glance about the kitchen, where two extra helpers were busy with the last preparations, over which Mrs. Boswell had kept a supervising eye to the smallest detail, herself working harder than anybody, the mistress of the place suffered herself to be led away. Up the back stairs, through Mr. Perkins's empty rooms, out upon the balcony, Sue hustled her mother, and then with one triumphant "There!" swept an arm about the entire horizon.
"My goodness!" burst from the lady's lips, and she stood gazing, transfixed.
At the foot of the mountainside, where lay the little village street with its row of shops and houses, glowed a line of Chinese lanterns, hung thickly along the entire distance. The winding road up to the Inn was outlined by lanterns; the trees about the Inn held out long arms dancing with the parti-coloured lights; the porch below, as could be told by the rainbow tints thrown upon the ground beneath, was hung with them from end to end.
"My goodness!" came again from Mrs. Boswell, in stupefied amazement. "There must be a thousand of those things. How on earth——?"
But her ear was caught by a distant boom, and her eyes lifted to the surrounding mountain heights. In a dozen different places bonfires flashed and leaped, with an indescribable effect of beauty.