The other children began to think, too, as they looked up at the Stars and Stripes at the end of the room. Edward remembered how the harness had hurt Trusty, and the boy with the drum remembered how he had awakened the baby from her nap. Roger thought of his torn flag, flapping in the wind on the top of the flagpole. No one said anything until the teacher looked at the end of the class and smiled, and said:
“Well, Peter!”
Peter smiled back, and tried to cover up the holes in his jacket sleeves, and tucked his old shoes under the seat. Peter’s father had gone to be a soldier, and there were his mother, and the two babies, and his grandfather who was blind, at home.
“What have you been doing all the week, Peter?” the teacher asked.
“Tending the babies so that mother could go to the factory and sew the soldiers’ uniforms,” Peter said. “And leading grandfather out for a walk when it was a sunny day.”
“Peter’s got a little flag hanging out of the window,” one of the children said, “and he’s so careful of it. He takes it in every night and puts it out again in the morning.”
“He saluted the flag and took off his hat to it when the parade went by the other day,” said another child. Everyone loved merry, ragged Peter, who could play so gayly when he had time for a game.
Just then they heard the band outside. It was playing, “The Red, White and Blue,” the music to which the children were to march with the flag.
“Who shall be our flag-bearer?” the teacher asked.
The children knew now. They were quite sure.