Mis' Amanda Toplady and Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss were at the depot to meet me. I remember how they looked, coming down the platform, with an orange and lemon and water-melon sunset idling down the sky. And then Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss says to me, with her eye-brows all pleased and happy: "Oh, Calliope, we've got the new seats for the County House Yard. They're iron, painted green, with a leaf design on the back." "And," chimes in the other one, "we've got them to say they'll wash the blankets in the calaboose every quarter." I wanted to begin right then. But I didn't. I just walked down the street with them, a-carrying my bag and my umbrella, and when one of them says, "Well, I'm sure your dress don't look so very much wore after all, Calliope," I answered back, casual enough, just as if I was thinking about what she said: "Well, I give you my word, I haven't once thought about myself in con-nection with that dress." Together we went down Daphne Street in the afternoon sun. And they didn't know, nor Friendship Village didn't know, that walking right along with us three was the tramp and the tramp of the feet of a great convention that had come home with me, right there to our village. Oh, I mean the tramp and the tramp of the feet of the folks in the whole world. FOOTNOTE: [12] Copyright, 1914, _La Follette's Magazine_. THE END PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA End of Project Gutenberg's Peace in Friendship Village, by Zona Gale