B'lindy had said, truly, that "she guessed if Webb got up the Fourth of July 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 very young and the very old should take part. At its head Webb himself would march, with the two recently returned soldiers, one on each side. The young people would come in costumes depicting the characters of the men associated with the Island history.
"Mrs. Eaton wants you to help her dress the children, Anne," Miss Sabrina had announced, the day before the Fourth. "She asked me to ask you 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 voice made Nancy suddenly think that perhaps Mrs. Eaton was not always pleasant.
She remembered that B'lindy had added the Eaton name to the list of acquaintances possible to a Leavitt.
The very air of that Fourth of July morning was a-tingle with excitement. When Nancy turned into the village street it seemed to her filled with people, all in Sunday-best and holiday spirits. The green in front of the meeting-house was alive with eager, tumbling youngsters.
Mrs. Eaton, a large woman with what Nancy called a prune mouth and watery blue eyes, greeted Nancy effusively. Nancy was a "dear"—she said it with a rising squeak—to help her! There wasn't a great deal to do—the little dears were going to wear white caps and capes and represent a band of peace; the girls would carry wreaths of white syringa. She'd thought of it all herself—two days before.
"I'm so glad to be rushed to death," she explained, patting down a small 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 she nodded sympathetically.