KATE’S GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER.
“I’d like to know,” exclaims Marie, “if there weren’t any heroines as well as heroes in the time of the Revolution. Now down there in the Park to-day, while they were having their orations, and Mr. Higby got to talking about the Revolution—”
“Come now,” breaks in Harry, “you don’t mean to pretend you heard a word he said!”
“Indeed I do! I listened first-rate—along at first. Katy, mustn’t he stop interrupting? Well, all I was going to say was, that when he got to talking about the Revolution it was all about the forefathers that he got so eloquent, and never a word about the mothers! As if they weren’t patriotic, too, and of some account! Don’t you suppose they were?”
“Kate,” slyly observes her brother, “here’s another fine opportunity for you to hold forth on the subject of your great-great-grandmother.”
“Ah! just as though you weren’t every whit as proud of her as I am!”
“Oh, my! did you have a great-great-grandmother?” cries the enthusiastic Marie. “Do tell us about her.”
“Yes, do, Miss Katy,” says Harry, seconding the motion as he watches a sky-rocket shooting upward, leaving a gleaming train as it curves through the air. For this is the evening of the “Glorious Fourth,” and the speakers are all out in the porch, where a good view can be had of the display of fireworks down at the corner of the street.
“Well, then, Harry, you know about the battle of Cowpens, in South Carolina?”