“While mother and Helen are entertaining Mrs. Campbell, we’ll borrow the largest car in town and show Walter the sights. And it will be up to us to prove to him that Kernville’s the best little town of the seventy-five thousand class in the whole rich valley of the Mississippi. All Walter will have to do will be to send a few wires in a casual manner to the right parties and everything the town needs will be forthcoming.” “But why should we worry about the town when it isn’t worrying particularly about us?” asked Helen as she began to clear the table. “I don’t quite follow you either,” said his mother. “You can’t, you really mustn’t----” “Such matters are for the male of the species to grapple with. You and Helen arrange a tea or dinner or whatever you please, making something small and select of the function, and I’ll do all the rest.” “In some way John and I will manage the money,” said Mr. Ward, slowly, and then catching a meaningful look in John’s eyes, he added with unwonted confidence: “Where there’s a will there’s a way. I want the Campbells’ visit to be a happy occasion. You are entitled to it, Margaret--you and Helen must get all the pleasure possible from meeting a woman of Mrs. Campbell’s large experience of life.” “Mama will need a new frock,” said Helen, a remark which precipitated at once a lively debate with her mother as to which--if any item of her existing wardrobe would lend itself to the process of reconstruction. This question seemed susceptible of endless discussion, and was only ended by John’s firm declaration that there should be new raiment for both his mother and Helen. “Father, we’ll show these upstarts from New York what real American women are like!” “We shall be ruined!” cried Helen tragically, as she disappeared through the swing door with a pile of plates. “Please, John, don’t do anything foolish,” his mother pleaded, but she smiled happily under the compulsion of his enthusiasm. “Trust me for that!” he replied, laying his hands on her shoulders. “We’re all too humble; that’s what’s the matter with the Ward family. And for once I want you to step right out!” He waved her into the sitting room and darted into the kitchen, where he threw off his coat and donned an apron. III “Crazy! You’ve gone plumb stark crazy!” said Helen, as she thrust her arms into the dishwater. “It’s cruel to raise mother’s hopes that way. You know well enough that as things are going we’re just about getting by, with the grocery bill two months behind and that eternal interest on the mortgage hanging over us like the well-known sword of Damocles.” “The sword is in my hands!” declared John, balancing a plate on the tip of his finger. “How does that old tune go? The Campbells are coming, tra la, tra la, The Campbells are coming, tra la!