“Hush, let him alone,” said Dr. Gray, with tears in his eyes.
And then he raised the noble boy in his arms, so the men could see him, for that was what they wanted. But still Preston hid his face. His heart was full, and he couldn’t look up when those people were praising him so.
By this time there were lamps lighted in every window of Dr. Gray’s house, and even in the trees; and though the moon was shining her best, Major Patten, with the wonderful fur cap, asked Preston to stand beside him and hold a lamp, that he might see to read his music.
Preston stood there with the light shining on his pure, good face; and then the men played, “See the Conquering Hero comes,” the “Marsellaise,” and a dozen other tunes, while their uniforms made such a dazzle of red and gold that Flaxie could not help dancing about like a wild thing for joy.
It was not so with thoughtful Milly. She snuggled down on the piazza beside Julia, and looked on quietly.
“I’m glad Preston was so good,” thought she; “perhaps he wouldn’t have been so very good if he hadn’t had those blind eyes and spectacles. How God must love him! Papa says Julia is like a little candle, and I’m sure Preston is like a candle too. Why, where is Flaxie going now?”
Flaxie was flying down the hill after Henry, the stable-boy. She had heard her papa tell him to go to Mr. Springer’s for some ice-cream, and she wanted to say: “Get it pink, Henry; get the pinkest ice-cream you can find!”
Then when the men were seated all about the yard and on the piazza, eating their pink ice-cream, somebody threw up a rocket; and that was the end of the gayest, brightest evening our little friend Flaxie Frizzle had ever known in her life.