And then, with many misgivings, fearing that the whole thing might prove a fizzle,—for of course, many things had been wrong,—she hurried home for luncheon. Then came a hurried dressing, a whirl in an automobile, and she was dazedly taking her seat, a post of honor, on the front row of the grand-stand, erected by the Boy Scouts and Peter, in front of Mrs. Van Vorst’s high garden-walls.
She barely had time to realize that the notables of the village were seated to the right and left of her, and to exchange a few greetings with one or two old-time friends, when she heard the ringing of a bell, the bell in the tower of the old Presbyterian church. This was the signal that the Liberty Pageant, way up at the other end of the town, was to issue from its shelter of green trees in front of the brick schoolhouse, and set forth on its march down through Main Street, the most important thoroughfare of the sleepy little town, with its wide, asphalted road shaded by noble old elms.
CHAPTER V
THE LIBERTY PAGEANT
Nathalie was sure that she would never forget those tense, anxious moments as she stared with strained eyes, trying to catch the first glimpse of the coming show, while listening with alert ears to the oncoming tread of many feet, the noise and bustle of moving equipages, and the buzz and hum from the excited voices of the paraders and the onlookers. High above the tumult floated snatches of patriotic song, as sung by the Liberty Girls, and the loud outbursts of applause from the villagers, who lined the street.
Ah, there it was! The girl’s heart leaped in wild bounds, she bent forward eagerly, and then she was sitting with nervously clasped hands, gazing with wide-open eyes at the slowly passing floats of the Liberty Pageant. It was heralded by a procession of small maidens costumed as Greek goddesses, who, while moving and swaying rhythmically, and holding festoons of white flowers high above their heads, were singing Thomas Paine’s “Liberty Tree.” As they burst out with the old familiar words:
“In a chariot of light from the regions of day,
The Goddess of Liberty came;”
Nathalie was forcibly reminded of the time when she had last heard that song. Yes, it was almost a year ago, on Mrs. Van Vorst’s lawn, when the Girl Pioneers had held their little playlet of “Liberty Banners.”
But her thoughts were again on the series of living pictures, and she smiled with her neighbors at the two small boys, one gowned as a doctor of the law, and the other as a brass-buttoned, blue-coated guardian of the peace, mounted on small horses caparisoned in white, whose trappings were marked in gold with the words “Law” and “Order.” As the diminutive doctor removed a pen from behind his ear, and peered learnedly through his goggles at a ponderous volume of law resting on a rack in front of him, while his companion on the neighboring flower-bedecked steed flourished a somewhat formidable-looking club, in token of the duties of his office, roars of laughter broke from the spectators.
But as their eyes wandered on to the snowy chariot, where the Spirit of Liberty stood with outstretched hands, one holding a branch of evergreen, and the other a lighted torch, their laughter ceased, and a strange hush stilled their noisy clamor. For this beautiful maiden in loosely flowing garments, with eyes as bright and shining as the starry chaplet that wreathed her golden, unbound hair, was the little hunchback of the big gray house, Nita Van Vorst!