"But whether it was right or whether it was wrong, none of it rung like it had ought to of rang. They wan't no _glow_ to it. We all went around like getting supper on wash-day, and not like getting up a meal for folks that meant a lot to us. It wan't going to be any such Fourth as I'd meant about and wanted to have come back. The day come on a pacing, and the nearer it come, the worse all us ladies felt. And by a few days before it, when our final committee meeting come off in Abagail Arnold's home bakery, back room, 'count of being central, we was all blue as the grave, and I donno but bluer. We set waiting for Silas that was having a long-distance call, and Abagail was putting in the time frosting dark cakes in the same room. We was most all there but the niece Miss Beryl Sessions. She had gone home, but she was coming back on the Fourth in an automobile full o' city folks. "'The _marquee's_ come,' says Mis' Holcomb, throwing out the word clickish. "Nobody said anything. Seems it _was_ a tent all along. "'Silas has got in an extra boy for the day,' says Mis' Sykes, complacent. 'It's the littlest Cadoza boy, Spudge. He's goin' to walk up an' down Daphne Street all day, with a Prize Coffee board on his back.' "'Where's Spudge's Fourth comin' in?' I couldn't help askin'. "Mis' Sykes stared. She always could look you down, but she's got a much flatter, thicker stare since her niece come. 'What's them kind o' folks _for_ but such work?' says she, puckering. "'Oh, I donno, I donno,' says I. 'I thought mebbe they was partly made to thank the Lord for bein' born free.' "'How unpractical you talk, Calliope,' she says. "'I donno that word,' says I, reckless from being pent up. 'But it seems like a liberty-lovin' people had ought to hev _one_ day to love liberty on an' not tote groceries and boards and such.' "'_Don't it!_' says Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss, explosive. "'What you talking?' says Mis' Sykes, cold. 'Don't you know the Fourth of July can be made one of the best days of the year for your own town's good? What's that if it ain't patriotic?' "'It's Yankee shrewd,' says I, snapping some, 'that's what it is. It ain't Yankee spirited, by a long shot.' "'"_By a long shot_,"' quotes Mis' Sykes, withering. She always was death on wording, and she was far more death after her niece come. But I always thought, and I think now, that correcting your advisary's grammar is like telling him there's a smooch on his nose, and they ain't either of them parliamental _or_ decent. "Mis' Uppers sighed. 'The whole thing,' says she, candid, 'sounds to me like Fourth o' July in Europe or somewheres. No get-up-an'-get anywheres to it. What do they do in Europe on the Fourth o' July, anyway?' she wondered. 'I donno's I ever read.' "'I donno, either,' says Mis' Holcomb, dark, 'but I bet you it's one of these All Frost celebrations--or whatever it is they say.'