“Now that’s funny,” the boy said, in a surprised tone. “Seem’s though the country’d be an awful nice place to have a good time in, Fourth o’ July. Mebbe it’s ’cause you never had nobody to cel’brate with; but you will this year. You’ll have a real nice time, too; I always enjoy Fourth o’ July.”
Miss Lucinda gave a feeble sigh. “What do you usually do Fourth o’ July?” she asked, with the desire to learn her coming fate.
“Well, last year I had one bunch o’ firecrackers that got fired off the very first thing. I thought mebbe this year I’d earn ’nough money to buy two bunches; d’you think I could?”
“Well, really, I don’t know,” Miss Lucinda said.
“And last year I went to see the percession, and the crowd jammed me, and I didn’t see nothin’; but this year they’re goin’ to have a percession out here, and that feller asked me to be in it. D’you suppose I could?”
“I don’t know,” Miss Lucinda answered again.
“They’re goin’ to have reg’lar uniforms, red, white, and blue”—evidently the boy took this as half consent—“and it’s goin’ to be jest great. I s’pose it’d be a good deal o’ trouble to make me a uniform, seein’s you’re so busy?”
“A soldier suit? Dear me, yes, I should say so!” There was no doubt now in Miss Lucinda’s tones.
The boy drew a deep breath as he rose to go. “All right,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll tell the fellers; p’r’aps they’ll let me march, jest the same.”
When supper-time came and Miss Lucinda rang her bell again out the door, she saw the boy coming along the path from the barn, helping Joshua, the man-of-all-work, bring in the brimming pail of milk.