In California, Orange Day is next in importance to Washington's Birthday
and the Fourth of July. I shall never forget our first experience of its
charms. We were motoring, taking a last jaunt in an old machine which we
had just sold for more than we ever had expected to get for it. It was a
reckless thing to do, for we had no spare tire and it is very like
speculating in oil stocks to start for a run of any length under those
circumstances. It worked out about as it would have done if we had been
trifling with the stock market. A rear tire blew out, and we were put
under the disagreeable necessity of giving our purchaser more nearly his
money's worth. This was a poor start for a holiday, but being near a
delightful inn, we crept slowly to town on our rim and found a fete
awaiting us. We also found friends from the East who asked us all to
lunch, thereby, as one member of the party put it in Pollyanna's true
spirit, much decreasing the price of the new tire. The inn is built in
Spanish style and we lunched in a courtyard full of gaudy parrots,
singing birds in wicker cages and singing senoritas as gay as the
parrots, on balconies above us.
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