“Everything ready, sir!”
Virginia shook her head and smiled at Zonia. She too wore a marshal’s sash.
“I want you to meet some of the mothers, Miss Holland,” she whispered eagerly. “I made a lot of them go to our meetings.”
“With pleasure, dear.” She smiled at Vassar. “We’ll take occasion to mend some of our fences in this benighted district today!”
The young Congressman turned his guest over to his niece and hurried away with Billy to inspect the assignment of kids for the ceremonies of the Flag.
Virginia was surprised to find the hall packed with women and children, more than a thousand, of all ages and nationalities. They were chattering like magpies—a babel of foreign tongues—German, Italian, Polish, Bohemian, Russian, Greek, Yiddish.
“I must introduce you first,” Zonia whispered, “to my favorite mother, an Italian with the cutest little darling boy you ever saw. She heard you speak in the Square—”
She darted into the crowd and led forth a slender, dark-haired young Italian mother with a beautiful boy of five clinging to her skirts.
“Miss Holland, this is my good friend Angela Benda and Mr. Tommaso!”
Angela bowed and blushed.