"Halt! Front! Right—dress! Front! Present—arms!"
To the front came the muskets, Caleb's sword-hilt was raised to his chin, Ojam drooped the flag, and Philip doffed his hat.
"Why did they do that, I wonder?" asked Grace.
"Oh, some notion of Caleb's, I suppose," Philip replied.
"Shoulder—arms!" shouted Caleb. "Order—arms! Three cheers for the uniforms!"
Eighteen slouch hats waved in the air, an eighteen-soldier-power roar arose, the fife shrieked three times, the drummer rolled three ruffles. Then One-Arm Ojam, the flag rested against his armless shoulder, waved his gray hat picturesquely, and roared:—
"Three cheers for the giver of the uniforms!"
When a second round of cheering ended, a man in the ranks shouted "Speech!" and the word was echoed by several others. Then Philip, while his wife's lips became shapeless in wide-mouthed wonder, removed his hat and said:—
"Fellow-Americans, the uniforms weren't a gift. They're merely a partial payment, on my own account, for what you did for mine and me when I was very young. This is one of the proudest days of my life; for though I took the measure of each of you by guess-work, no man's clothes seem a very bad fit." Then he returned abruptly into the store, followed by his wife, who exclaimed:—