"Sure, you're too big to be Trixie!" she cried, when we told her who it was.
That day, when the blind man was out of breath, and his feet were sore from walking hundreds of miles, I climbed up on the window-sill and watched the people going along the street. There were a great many of them, much more than usual. Suddenly there was the sound of a fife and drum in the distance, and a long line of carriages came into sight, and one was filled with beautiful flowers, and one was draped with a torn old flag.
"Come quick, Norah!" I cried, eagerly. "It's a procession!"
"It's the old major's funeral," Norah said, coming with the twins in her arms to look over my shoulder.
I had known, somehow, that it was the major's, for everything nice belonged to him. I was so proud to think that my major should have all that big procession, with the lovely flowers and the music in front. I looked for him in every carriage, that I might wave as he went by. He was not there, but other people were,—my mother and my grandmother, and the lady from over the way, and men with gold braid on their coats come to grace the major's procession.
"Is it all his, Norah?" I asked.
"Sure, dear."
"I am so glad," I cried. "Oh, I'm so glad!"
I clapped my hands in my delight, and was quite angry with Norah when she dragged me, hurriedly, away from the window.