“It’s a band, and marching,” said Hattie.
The orphaned children hurried to the curb. A procession was turning the corner and coming toward them. On either sidewalk crowds of men and boys accompanied it.
“It’s a funeral,” said Sadie, as if she intuitively divined the mournful.
Hattie turned with a face of conviction. “I know. It’s that big general’s funeral; they’re bringing him here to bury him with the soldiers.”
“We’ll never see a thing for the crowd,” despaired Sadie.
Emmy Lou was gazing. “They’ve got plumes in their hats,” she said.
“Let’s go over on the church steps and see it go by,” said Hattie, “it’s early.”
The orphaned children hurried across the street. They climbed the steps. At the top they turned.
There were plumes and more, there were flags and swords, and a band led.
But at the church with unexpected abruptness the band halted, turned, it fell apart, and the procession came through; it came right on through and up the steps, a line of uniforms and swords on either side from curb to pillar, and halted.