"Why it looks like heaven at night!" cried Jeanne rapturously. "I shall be an American,—I like the stars better than the lilies of France, and the red cross is hateful. For stars are of heaven, you know, you cannot make them grow on earth."
A kindly, smiling, elderly man turned and caught sight of the eager, rosy face.
"And which, I wonder, is the brave General Wayne?"
"He is not here to-day unfortunately and cannot taste the sweets of his many victories. But he is well worth seeing, and quite as sorry not to be here as you are to miss him. But he is coming presently."
"Then it is not the man who is making a speech?—and see what a beautiful horse he has!"
"That is the governor, Major General St. Clair."
"And General Wayne, is he an American?"
The man gave an encouraging smile to the child's eager inquiry.
"An American? yes. But look you, child. The only proper Americans would be the Indians."
She frowned and looked puzzled.