Then Flora Archer took her place. Flora was a thoughtful little girl who carried around in her eyes a deep, deep something people never understood. With her lips close to the flagpole, she whispered her message to it, and all the while the beautiful banner streamed out to its farthest length.
Flora came back without speaking, and the children looked at her in curious silence. But when the others were noisily choosing times again, Flora slipped her hand into Louise's and whispered:
"I wished for our soldiers to win in the war, but for them not to be cruel when they do."
"Yours, Louise!" exclaimed somebody.
And before Louise had time to examine the depths of her heart to see what it was she most desired, a half-dozen pair of friendly hands pushed her forward. It was no time to hold back—to spoil the game. Louise mounted the green knoll from which the great flagpole rose.
But she did not at once look up. Her glance had accidentally lighted on the lonely figure on the steps, and was resting there for a moment in startled contemplation.
He was such a little boy, and he seemed so—apart! But one must make no mistakes where one's country was involved. Were his blue eyes "gleaming" with vengeful purpose? Or were they only full—of shining tears?
"Look up! Look up!" the children called.
Louise threw back her head—threw it back so far that the familiar scene about her became lost to her view and she beheld nothing but the vision above. Amid the battling tree tops and against a threatening sky the flag of freedom streamed out in all its rippling glory—red for the courage of American hearts, white for the purity of purpose they should harbor, and blue for truth, like that higher, farther heaven above the gathering clouds. Now rippling, now curling, wreathing, snapping, and now—straight out, fronting the coming storm!
"Quick! Quick!" the children shouted, as Old Glory floated free.