Mr. Bearington had been all suavity when talking with Mrs. and Mr. Cornwallis about the coming celebration. He even intimated that they might go over to a neighboring island and have their little picnic all by themselves.
“One day is enough for my boys,” he added. “I make them do all their celebrating on the identical day. I don’t believe in drizzling along in such matters more than in others.”
Whereupon Mr. and Mrs. Cornwallis thanked him heartily and rested in the belief that he would not allow his boys to indulge in any annoying demonstrations on their daughter’s account, even during Independence Day; but they like Ruth were greatly mistaken. The day had scarcely dawned when the racket began; and a big racket it was for four small boys to make. But that was not all of it. When they sat down to breakfast they found a firecracker under each plate and the boys were not in evidence, which showed that more mischief was brewing.
“The good for naught imps!” exclaimed the landlady as she cleared away the stuff; “they have been trying to be funny all the morning—throwing torpedoes under my feet and snapping firecrackers in my face. I am glad I don’t live in an independent country if that’s the independence of it.”
There were twenty firecrackers, one for each boarder. She put them into the cupboard to get them out of the way and thanked her stars that she had been able to do so before the rest of her boarders came in—especially Colonel Jordan who inclined to be violent if anything went amiss. He had cursed her roundly once upon a time, because a spider had invaded his napkin. What would he have said had he found that insolent reminder of the American victory over the English, underneath his plate?
Colonel Jordan was the last to make his appearance. He was in a ferocious mood, but he softened a little as he took his accustomed seat opposite Ruth.
“A beautiful day Miss Cornwallis—that is right here, but I perceive they are having a right smart thunder shower on the American side. A volcanic or patriotic eruption so to speak. The killed and wounded will not all be brought in before tomorrow, possibly.”
Ruth made no response. Mr. and Mrs. Cornwallis looked anxious. The Colonel felt that something was amiss.
“Beg pardon, this ridiculous Independence Day racket has cost me my morning’s nap; but I ought not to be in a rage I suppose. I fancy you have not enjoyed it either, Miss Cornwallis, although it is one of your country’s choicest exports.”
Ruth began to show signs of nervous distress and Mr. Cornwallis hastened to explain as well as place and time permitted, their attitude on the subject and the sad experience that made them fugitives from home. He closed with a significant look at Ruth, which would have been sufficient for a more impressionable man—a civilian rather than a soldier. Not so, however, with Colonel Jordan. He thought it was the mother’s health that had been effected by the loss of her son, as very naturally it would be. There was nothing in that which appealed especially to his sympathies. Besides, his sympathies were tough. He turned to Ruth as though he had discovered a good joke.