“What of that, Molly? Soiled frocks seem of very little consequence to me to-night.”
As Mrs. Rowe spoke she knelt beside Molly’s bed, and gave her a fond kiss.
“Only the clothes were new, mamma.”
“Who cares for new clothes compared to human lives, my Molly?” Mrs. Rowe’s voice was unsteady. “I thank the good Father on my knees for letting you save Essie, and for sparing our dear daughter to her father and me.”
And she kissed Molly again and again.
CHAPTER XII
THE STREET MASQUERADE
It was the evening before Admission Day. Silver Gate City wore its gala dress in honor of the approaching 9th of September, the anniversary of the birth of the State of California.
Arches draped with flags spanned the street corners; streamers of red, orange, and green floated from trolley and telegraph wires; palm-branches and festoons of bunting decked the fronts of houses and shops. To-morrow the city was to be serious and grand with orations and bands of music, but to-night it was on tiptoe for a frolic.
Directly after tea Molly and Pauline retired to Molly’s room to prepare for the street masquerade. Kirke and Paul were arraying themselves in Paul’s room across the way, roaring and clapping at intervals with such gusto that Captain Bradstreet, in the library beneath, chuckled from sympathy.
The captain was to pose at the festival as General Washington, and had already donned a long military coat, black stockings, and knee-breeches of velvet.