But the Wind was not so much concerned with that. She only grieved and grieved for the Special Baby. And the Great Black Hush comforted her, and I think he comforts her unto this day. Only at night. Then, as you know, the Great Black Hush comes from the Outermost Way and fills the air, and with him often and often comes the Wind. And together they wander among all the shining balls--you will know this, if you listen, on many a night--and together they look for the Special Baby. But _he_ has grown up, long and long ago, only he still stretches out his hands to everything, for he is the way he was made. XVIII THE DECORATION OF INDEPENDENCE That year we celebrated Fourth of July in the Wood Yard. The town had decided not to have a celebration, though we did not know who had done the actual deciding, and this we used to talk about. “How can the _town_ decide anything?” Delia asked sceptically. “When does it do it?” “Why,” said Margaret Amelia--to whom, her father being a judge, we always turned to explain matters of state, “its principal folks say so.” “Who are its principal folks?” I demanded. “Why,” said Margaret Amelia, “I should think you could tell that. They have the stores and offices and live in the residence part.” I pondered this, for most of the folk in the little town did neither of these things. “Why don’t they have another Fourth of July for the rest, then,” I suggested, “and leave them settle on their own celebration?” Margaret Amelia looked shocked. “I guess you don’t know much about the Decoration of Independence,” said she. The Decoration of Independence--we all called it this--was, then, to go by without attention because the Town said so. “The Town,” said Mary Elizabeth, dreamily, “the Town. It sounds like somebody tall, very high, and pointed at the top, with the rest of her dark and long and flowy--don’t it?” “City,” she and I were agreed, sounded like somebody light and sitting down with her skirts spread out. “Village” sounded like a little soft hollow, not much of any colour, with a steeple to it. “I like ‘Town’ best,” Mary Elizabeth said. “It sounds more like a mother-woman. ‘City’ sounds like a lady-woman. And ‘Village’ sounds like a grandma-woman. I like ‘Town’ best.” “What I want to do,” Margaret Amelia said restlessly, “is to spend my Fourth of July dollar. I had a Fourth of July dollar ever since Christmas. It’s no fun spending it with no folks and bands and wagons.” “I’ve got my birthday dollar yet,” I contributed. “If I spent it for Fourth of July, I’d be glad of it, but if I spend it for anything else, I’ll want it back.” “I had a dollar,” said Calista, gloomily, “but I used a quarter of it up on the circus. Now I’m glad I did. I wish’t I’d stayed to the sideshow.” “Stitchy Branchitt says,” Betty offered, “that the boys are all going to Poynette and spend their money there. Poynette’s got exercises.”