"Cyrus Eaton says I'm a wonder—just a wonder! But I suppose I ought to be thankful my Archie's come through without losing any of his arms or legs! Now, my dear, if you'll fix the rest of these children I'll run down and look at the Indian Chiefs. Bless me, I don't know what Webb'd do without me. But then, I'm glad to do it—it keeps my mind off Archie." She panted off with a patronizing smile that took in Nancy and the group of staring youngsters.
To Nancy, whose life had been spent mostly in the big cities of the world, this glimpse of village life was a novel experience. She loved it—the spontaneous gaiety of it all, the round-eyed children that crowded to her, noisily clamoring to have their "things" put on. The notes of a bugle floated up the street. Fire crackers popped off with the regularity of machine-gun fire. From every side came loud, eager voices. She was glad she was a part of it all. As she finished arranging 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 other children from a little distance. Their childish longing betrayed itself in the unwonted way their hands clung together, in the wistfulness of their faces. Nancy hailed them.
"Come along—hurry!" she cried. They ran eagerly to her. Nancy seized a cape and a cap.
"Dast we?" asked Davy, very gravely.
"Why, of course. Quick—take this cap, Davy. Here, Nonie, is a wreath. Now—stand here—in this line!" She placed them between two other 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 my Archie could see it! I'm actually inspired!" Her red, moist face suggested that she had made a mistake in her choice of words. She ran around the group of children, standing in ragged file, impatiently awaiting the signal to start. "The little dears—just like a beautiful band of peace!" Suddenly she stared and her face flushed a darker red. "Nonie Hopworth, how dared you come here!"
Nonie's lips quivered and her eyes went imploringly to Nancy. Davy tossed his head defiantly. Neither answered.
"I called them, Mrs. Eaton."
Now there was no "my dear" on Mrs. Eaton's tongue. It clicked sharply against her teeth. She was too outraged, too, to pick her words.