“Oh, father! I want to march! Can I?” begged Ned.
“Certainly,” replied his father, unexpectedly. “Go ahead.”
“But I mean march in the parade,” persisted Ned.
“We’ll see,” responded his father.
“But I’m sure they don’t want boys fussing round them,” objected Mrs. Miller.
“Yes, they do, mother,” quickly corrected Ned. “Lots of boys march.”
“I’m afraid that they’ll gladly take anybody large enough to carry a torch,” confessed Mr. Miller.
“The idea!” exclaimed his wife, shocked by this give-away of political methods.
As time wore on, the approaching rally grew to mammoth proportions, and kept Ned busy talking about its numerous phases.
The Clarion devoted columns of space to it, and the town was well plastered with posters bristling with exclamation points and heavy type.