“Gee!” he said; “it is pretty bad, isn't it?”
“Here they come!”
The nobles and ladies on the grandstand, the yeomanry and spectators of better degree, and the promiscuous multitude began to sway expectantly and over the hill came the knights, single file, gorgeous in velvets and in caps, with waving plumes and with polished spears, vertical, resting on the right stirrup foot and gleaming in the sun.
“A goodly array!” murmured the Hon. Sam.
A crowd of small boys gathered at the fence below, and I observed the Hon. Sam's pockets bulging with peanuts.
“Largesse!” I suggested.
“Good!” he said, and rising he shouted:
“Largessy! largessy!” scattering peanuts by the handful among the scrambling urchins.
Down wound the knights behind the back stand of the base-ball field, and then, single file, in front of the nobles and ladies, before whom they drew up and faced, saluting with inverted spears.
The Hon. Sam arose—his truncheon a hickory stick—and in a stentorian voice asked the names of the doughty knights who were there to win glory for themselves and the favor of fair women.