“What on earth is the matter?” he asked. “It seems like Bedlam broken loose. Is there an insurrection going on?”
“Ah, they’re having a fine time, ain’t they!” said Miss Celia.
“But, what is it all about?” he repeated, gazing from one to the other of the smiling ladies, almost bewildered by the uproar out of doors.
“Fourth of July,” replied the lady of the house, as if that was quite a sufficient answer and accounted for everything.
“The fourth of July!” he repeated mechanically. “What has the day of the month got to do with it—is it an anniversary of some sort—some national holiday?”
“An anniversary, indeed!” exclaimed Miss Celia indignantly. “I thought you were such a good hand at history. Why, haven’t you ever heard of our glorious Declaration of Independence, when the free states of America severed the hated yoke that bound them under the thraldom of the tyrant England?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot. I’m sure I beg your pardon for not recollecting what must be to you a sacred day!” said Fritz, somewhat deceived by the girl’s affected enthusiasm, Celia having spoken as grandiloquently as if she were an actress declaiming tragedy.
“Sacred day, fiddlesticks!” she replied, laughing at his grave face and solemn manner. “I guess we don’t worry ourselves much about that! We try and have a good time of it, and leave it to the politicians and skallywags to do the speechifying and bunkum! The boys have the best time of it, I reckon.”
“Yes,” he replied, his ideas as to the patriotic associations of American citizens considerably modified. “They seem to enjoy themselves, if the noise they’re making affords any criterion of that!”
“I guess so,” answered the girl. “They’ve burnt a few fire crackers this morning; but, it’s nothing to what they do at Boston. Law, why you should see the goings on there’ll be in front of Faneuil Hall to-night, when the ‘Bonfire Boys’ set to work!”