“McIvor is coming.”
“Here?—McIvor? The McIvor?”
“Yes, to finish up the Liberty Loan campaign. He’s to sing in St. Margaret’s Square, in the open, the night of the 27th. It’s thought his voice will be worth a hundred thousand of subscriptions.”
Honor began sucking her thumb violently; the boy had seen her do that in moments of stress from baby-hood. Then she suddenly stopped and whistled. “Whew! I hate it like anything—his coming. He said I wouldn’t get anywhere, and I haven’t. It’s two years. And now I won’t ever. Well—likely he won’t remember a word about me. But I want to hear him. Can you get me a place, Eric?”
“You bet I can,” pronounced Eric. “I’m the chairman of the committee on arrangements, and if you don’t have the best seat in the whole blamed show, I’ll eat my hat. Mr. Barron had me made chairman—he’s getting McIvor to come, of course.”
“The old fox,” commented Honor. “And never peeped to me.”
“’Fraid you’d be sore, and it might put you off singing for meetings,” explained Eric.
“Men are silly,” Honor reflected as to that. “McIvor was right and I’m wrong, but does Mr. Barron think I can’t take my medicine, I wonder?”
“You’re a game sport, Honor, besides being a peach of a girl, and I’m certain you’ll be the best singer on earth yet. That’s what,” Eric assured her impressively.
Saturday night, in early June, came off warm and clear, and the square where towered the court-house and the cathedral and the library was turned into an out-of-doors auditorium, streaming with the colors of the Allies. A platform gay with flags stretched across the huge, pillared, gray stone of the court-house, and down in front of it were two thousand seats. From every side streets led into the square; these spaces, it was hoped, would also fill with people, drawn by the famous singer, and inspired by his singing to subscribe to the Liberty Loan. The arrangements had been worked out in every detail, so that the sequence slipped like oiled machinery. At seven o’clock Henry Barron went to the train at the head of a committee to meet the great man.