My Father read on.
"This next one," he said, "seems to be about Soldiers!"
"Soldiers?" said the Blinded Lady. "Soldiers?" She sat up very straight. She cocked her head on one side. "Read it!" she said.
"I'm reading it!" said my Father.
The most scrumptious sight I've ever seen in my life is Soldiers Marching! I saw them once in New York! It was glorious! All the reds and the blues and the browns of the Uniforms! And when the Band played all the different instruments it seemed as though it was really gold and silver music they were playing! It makes you feel so brave! And so unselfish! But most of all it makes you wish you were a milk-white pony with diamond hoofs! So that you could sparkle! And prance! And rear! And run away just for fun! And run and run and run down clattery streets and through black woods and across green pastures snorting fire—till you met more Soldiers and more Bands and more Gold and Silver Music! So that you could prance and sparkle and rear and run away all over again,—with flags flying!
"U-m-m," said the Blinded Lady. "That is pretty! And spirited too!—But—But it doesn't exactly warm the heart.—And no one but a boy, anyway, would want to think about soldiers every day.—Read the next one!" said the Blinded Lady.
"Oh all right," said my Father. "Here's the last one."
"Read it!" said the Blinded Lady.
"I'm trying to!" said my Father. He cleared his throat and put on his eye-glasses all over again. "Ahem!" he said.