Van was wriggling with the excitement of the affair. The final adjustment of his red Windsor tie was the hardest to bear, it took so long for Treesa and Betsy to set the bows right; still longer, because they were laughing at Van’s comical pride in himself. When at last he went capering over the lawn at the end of the chain which Betsy held tightly, he was quite too much for the family, who were assembled on the honeysuckle porch, shaking with laughter.
“It’s the foine b’y he is!” said Mary from her station on the kitchen walk.
“He’ll be the whole show, or I miss my guess,” said Treesa.
“It’s the kapin’ of him in the waggin that I’m doubtin’. I hope she do be havin’ a tight hould on the collar of him.”
“Oh, he’ll be all right. He’s so conceited and proud of his clothes that he’ll keep straight.”
Behind the great buildings the procession was forming, with all sorts of strange people running to and fro. Masked figures in petticoats that were flaunted with distinct masculine awkwardness, pretty young girl-attendants in red, white, and blue, and wearing liberty-caps, children in gay costumes, Uncle Sams and clowns. There were wagons filled with farm-hands, bicycles transformed into whirling rosettes of color, floats bearing the “States,” from Texas to Rhode Island. Every spare attendant and every vehicle on the place was pressed into service. All the employees and their families were there,—even some of the jolly young doctors took part in the motley show.
The procession started out on the mile-long driveway that surrounded the Hospital buildings, and it was truly gorgeous. Betsy’s happy face shone from the seat on the haymakers’ wagon, where she sat proudly with the driver, holding Van beside her.
People from the town and country around, who had turned out to see the parade, laughed at the perky little head with its red necktie, while from many windows the patients shouted all sorts of greetings to his small Magnificence.
“Hello, Van!”
“Ain’t he the dude!”