Father was certainly a splendid speaker. There! they were shouting hurrah! Johnny joined in at first, but soon he found they were saying, “Hurrah for Johnny Blossom!” This was embarrassing, but pleasant, after all.
Again the company scattered throughout the park. This was the time for the sack-racing and other contests in jumping, running, and singing. Father gave out the prizes, and then refreshments were served again.
The sunbeams slanted more and more and some of the children fell asleep, leaning against their mothers; so the fireworks began earlier than had been planned. With the first rocket’s hissing flight the children awoke and shouted for joy, and the fireworks hissed and sparkled and flashed—red, blue, green, yellow—above the park.
Finally, the whole company assembled in the great white salon. The children sang some beautiful songs, ending with, “Yes, we love our grand old Norway!” Some one came forward, elbowing his way. It was Jeremias in his tight coat.
“I want to say thank you, sir, for such a day as this. I’m only a poor man, but I can say this much, Johnny Blossom can do many a good turn”—
Jeremias seemed to have no more to say.
Then some one lifted Johnny Blossom up. He was warm and red, but beaming. “Come soon again, everybody!” he called out.
Little by little the room emptied. The colored lights shone like small suns along the dark avenues, and the stars twinkled and gleamed.
In the tiny bedroom in town Johnny Blossom laid his brown head on the pillow. “Thank you, dear God, thank you, thank you,” he murmured, and said no more, for he was overpowered by sleep.
