To Norma it was all a glorious dream. The flags, the music, the bright sunshine, great officers—some young and dashing, some subdued and grave, standing in review.
“But this is only the beginning,” she told herself. “There is more—much more.”
This was true, for once as she drilled her own company at dusk on the ancient grounds, having chosen a dark corner, they had put on something very special. It had been great fun, and gave them a thrill as well.
They had, however, made one mistake—the red brick officer’s home facing that corner of the parade ground was occupied by the commanding officer.
Hearing the rattle of drums, she had slipped on her fur coat and had stepped out on the veranda.
“Thrilled and charmed,” as she expressed it, by their performance, she had come down off the porch to congratulate their officer.
When she found a private at their head, she was amazed, for Norma was putting her company through an intricate drill.
“My dear, it is marvelous!” she enthused, when it was over. “And this little—ah—specialty of yours is charming. Let us keep it a secret, shall we? Until the day of the parade?”
“You mean—” Norma stared.
“Your company shall do this as something extra after the parade is over.”