CHAPTER XIII
THE FOURTH OF JULY
B'lindy had said, truly, that "she guessed if Webb got up the Fourth ofJuly doin's they'd be doin's no one'd forget!"
Webb's "doin's" took the form of a parade--a parade in which the veryyoung and the very old should take part. At its head Webb himselfwould march, with the two recently returned soldiers, one on each side.The young people would come in costumes depicting the characters of themen associated with the Island history.
"Mrs. Eaton wants you to help her dress the children, Anne," MissSabrina had announced, the day before the Fourth. "She asked me to askyou to be at the meeting-house at 9 o'clock.
"Oh, I'd love to," Nancy had responded eagerly.
"It is very nice of her, I am sure," Miss Sabrina had added. "She_wants_ to be pleasant." And a hint of apology in Miss Sabrina's voicemade Nancy suddenly think that perhaps Mrs. Eaton was not _always_pleasant.
She remembered that B'lindy had added the Eaton name to the list ofacquaintances possible to a Leavitt.
The very air of that Fourth of July morning was a-tingle withexcitement. When Nancy turned into the village street it seemed to herfilled with people, all in Sunday-best and holiday spirits. The greenin front of the meeting-house was alive with eager, tumbling youngsters.
Mrs. Eaton, a large woman with what Nancy called a prune mouth andwatery blue eyes, greeted Nancy effusively. Nancy was a "_dear_"--shesaid it with a rising squeak--to help her! There wasn't a great dealto do--the little dears were going to wear white caps and capes andrepresent a band of peace; the girls would carry wreaths of whitesyringa. _She'd_ thought of it all herself--two days before.
"I'm _so_ glad to be rushed to _death_," she explained, patting down asmall cap on a small head. "Of _course_ you know my Archie is _still_in Germany!"
Nancy had not known it, nor, indeed, anything about Archie, but shenodded sympathetically.
"Cyrus Eaton says I'm a _wonder_--just a wonder! But I _suppose_ Iought to be thankful my Archie's come through without losing any of hisarms or legs! Now, my _dear_, if you'll fix the _rest_ of thesechildren I'll run down and look at the Indian Chiefs. _Bless_ me, Idon't know _what_ Webb'd do without me. But _then_, I'm glad to doit--it keeps my _mind_ off Archie." She panted off with a patronizingsmile that took in Nancy and the group of staring youngsters.
To Nancy, whose life had been spent mostly in the big cities of theworld, this glimpse of village life was a novel experience. She lovedit--the spontaneous gaiety of it all, the round-eyed children thatcrowded to her, noisily clamoring to have their "things" put on. Thenotes of a bugle floated up the street. Fire crackers popped off withthe regularity of machine-gun fire. From every side came loud, eagervoices. She was glad she was a part of it all. As she finishedarranging its cap, she patted each head, just as Mrs. Eaton had done,but in Nancy's smile there was something that had not been in Mrs.Eaton's, so she invariably won a quick smile in response.
Suddenly Nancy spied Nonie and Davy, hand in hand, watching the otherchildren from a little distance. Their childish longing betrayeditself in the unwonted way their hands clung together, in thewistfulness of their faces. Nancy hailed them.
"Come along--hurry!" she cried. They ran eagerly to her. Nancy seizeda cape and a cap.
"Dast we?" asked Davy, very gravely.
"Why, of _course_. Quick--take this cap, Davy. Here, Nonie, is awreath. Now--stand here--in this line!" She placed them between twoother children. "All of you--faces forward! Be ready for the signal.Right foot--don't forget."
Mrs. Eaton bustled up. "Everything _ready_, my dear? It's perfectly_beautiful_--just beautiful!" in breathless staccato. "I wish myArchie could see it! I'm actually _inspired_!" Her red, moist facesuggested that she had made a mistake in her choice of words. She ranaround the group of children, standing in ragged file, impatientlyawaiting the signal to start. "The little _dears_--just like abeautiful band of peace!" Suddenly she stared and her face flushed adarker red. "Nonie Hopworth, how _dared_ you come here!"
Nonie's lips quivered and her eyes went imploringly to Nancy. Davytossed his head defiantly. Neither answered.
"_I_ called them, Mrs. Eaton."
Now there was no "my dear" on Mrs. Eaton's tongue. It clicked sharplyagainst her teeth. She was too outraged, too, to pick her words.
"Get right away!" She seized Davy by the shoulder. "Littlegood-for-nothings! This is a patriotic celebration and we don't wantany Hopworth's in it!"
Nancy's eyes blazed. "_Oh_, Mrs. Eaton! _Don't_--they're justchildren! They----"
"_You're_ a stranger here in Freedom, Miss Leavitt--I'll be pleased ifyou'll let _me_ manage this! I say it's an _insult_ to our heroes tohave Eric Hopworth's young 'uns here--an insult to Freedom's noblehistory!" The ruffles on her bosom heaved in her anger. "What'd EricHopworth do for his country! When I think of my Archie----" What shemight have thought did not find expression, because of the pins she wastearing roughly from Nonie's cape and thrusting between her teeth. "Gooff now," she panted between the shining row. "Go off where you camefrom!"
Then, almost simultaneously with the approach of a dishevelled Indianhollering between cupped hands that "p'rade's goin' start," came Webb'swarning whistle from down the street. Mrs. Eaton straightened to anappropriate dignity of bearing. She made a waving motion of her armtoward her little dears that ignored Nancy, standing back, dumb withthe cruelty of it all.
But Nonie's crestfallen face stung Nancy to sudden action. While theband of peace fluttered wildly back to its position, Nancy, with an armabout each, moved with the children toward the church. She movedquickly, too, for a sudden inspiration had seized her. She rememberedthree flags on standards in the Sunday-school room. She bade Davy getthem.
"Do _just_ what I tell you," she commanded. "The _cat_!" she threwover her shoulder.
All Freedom was too intent upon catching a first glimpse of Webb's hostmoving up the village street to notice the strange sight of Nancy andher companions racing through the back yards and fields that skirtedthe main thoroughfare. A long tear in Nancy's skirt testified to thespeed with which she had climbed all obstacles. Such was the fire inher soul that she could have climbed a mountain!
In the shade of a wide maple tree, B'lindy, resplendent in freshgingham and her good-as-new-last-year's-hat, watched Webb's "doin's"with a heart that fluttered with pride. No town in the whole Islandcould turn out more folks! But, then, no town on the Island had aprouder history!
With his badges glittering on the faded blue coat, Webb marched at thehead of his "p'rade" in his uniform of the Grand Army of the Republic.On either side of him stepped the recently returned soldiers, theiryoung-old faces turned straight ahead, their worn tunics attesting toother lines of march through other village streets. Behind them werethe three soldier boys who had not "gone across." In pure enjoyment ofthe occasion they had forgotten the resentment against fate that theyhad cherished. A group of boys and girls in Indian costume portrayedthat epoch of Freedom's history. One great warrior brandished atomahawk that had been dug up in a nearby field and was now kept in asuitable setting at the post-office. Close at their heels followedfour staid Puritan men, broad white collars pinned over Sunday coats.Ethan Allen and his brother Ira, beloved heroes of the little Islands,were there in character. Two lanky lads wore the uniform of 1861.Mrs. Eaton's "band of peace" in straggling lines, brought up the rear.
Greeted from each side by lusty cheers, through a cloud of dust, to thetap-a-tap-tap of three proud drummers, the pageant moved down thestreet. It had been Webb's plan that the "p'rade" should halt beforethe stoop of the hotel, where Mr. Todd, the postmaster, in a collarmuch too high and a coat much too tight, waited to give an address ofwelcome. But as Webb's eyes roved with pardonable pride over thefringe of spectators on each side of the line of march, they suddenlyspied an unexpected sight. On the stepping block in front of theschool house stood Nancy, her white skirts blowing, with Nonie
and Davyon each side. And each held, proudly upright, an American flag.
It was a pretty sight--the colors of the flags fluttering over thethree bare heads, the young faces tilted earnestly forward. Webb sawin it a friendly effort on Miss Anne's part to add to the success ofhis "doin's." So as the line of march approached the stepping-block,he solemnly saluted the three.
Advancing, the returned soldiers also saluted, stiffly. The drummerslost a beat in order to wave their drumsticks. The Indians gailybrandished their clubs, the Puritans nodded, the "boys in blue" mimicedtheir heroes of the hour with a stiff bending and jerking of theirright arms.
But then and there Mrs. Eaton fell back from her position at the headof the "band of peace." Nancy, wickedly watching from the corner of aperfectly innocent appearing eye, saw her give a gasp as she steppedaside.
Nonie and Davy, exalted into an ecstasy of joy over the part they hadfinally played in the celebration, stared in amazement at Nancy'ssuppressed peals of laughter, to which she gave way only when the lastwee dove of peace had trailed off toward the hotel. And not only Davyand Nonie stared; from out of the spectators came Peter Hyde.
"I have cooked my goose--now," giggled Nancy, wiping her eyes andholding out a hand. "She was _so_ funny! But I have outragedFreedom's noble history!" Nancy twisted her lips to resemble Mrs.Eaton's.
"If you'll let me help you down we might hurry and hear some of theHonorable Jeremiah Todd's oration," suggested Peter Hyde.
Nancy jumped lightly to the ground. "I wouldn't _dare_," she answered."Mrs. Eaton only waits to tear me limb from limb! I saw it in herpallid eye. You don't _know_ what I've done! Davy, you and Noniecarry these flags carefully back to the Sunday-school. And what do yousay--in celebration of this day--to a swim--this afternoon, at theCove!"
They exclaimed their approval of the suggestion. Nonie lingered.
"Do you know what I pretended then?" she asked, affectionately grippingNancy's arm. "I pretended I was Joan of Arc, all in white, riding on abig horse with bugles, calling to my army. Miss Denny read to me allabout it. Oh, it was grand!" She sighed, because the moment hadpassed. Davy pranced impatiently.
"Oh, come 'long--stop yer actin' lies!" Then, to Nancy, with aquestioning look that said such fortune seemed too good to be true:"'_Honest?_' 'Bout the swimmin'."
Nancy nodded mysteriously. "Honest to goodness--at three bells!"
She watched the children scamper away, then turned eyes dark withindignation to Peter Hyde.
"How can _anyone_ be cruel to children?" she cried. "How can anyonehurt them?"
Peter did not know what she was talking about, but he agreed with allhis heart.
"Kids--and dogs and cats and--little things," he added. "I shot arabbit once when I was fifteen, and when I went up to get it, it wasstill breathing, and looked so pitiful and small--I couldn't help butfeel that it hadn't had a chance 'gainst a fellow like me. I had tokill it then. That was enough for me! I haven't shot--any sort ofliving things--like _that_--since!"
His step shortened to Nancy's and together they turned their backs uponJeremiah's cheering audience and walked slowly homeward. Her mindconcerned with the children, Nancy told Peter all that had happened--offinding Nonie in the orchard, of the child's "pretend" games, of hercall upon Liz. Then she concluded with an account of the incident ofthe morning mimicing, comically, Mrs. Eaton's outraged manner.
"As if it would hurt her or her Archie or--or anyone else in this oldplace to make two youngsters happy," Nancy exclaimed, disgustedly."I'm going to do everything I can, while I'm at Happy House, to make upto them," she finished.
Peter assured her that he wanted to help. How much the desire wasinspired by sympathy for Nonie and Davy or by the winning picture Nancymade, her rebel strands of red-brown hair blowing across her flushedcheeks, no one could say. And when at the gate of Happy House theyseparated, Peter promising to be on hand at the Cove at four o'clock,Nancy watched him swing down the road with a pleasant sense ofcomradeship.