Now everything was ready, and the march began. Whole blocks on each side were festooned with bunting and Chinese lanterns; candles twinkled in every pane; all the gas-burners did their best; Roman candles shot out colored stars; rockets went up with a fizz.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" The procession was pausing in front of a big house. Somebody was making a speech. Nobody could understand half he said. No matter. "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" Elsie shouted with the rest, and trotted gayly on.
"No reason in the world I shouldn't have come, like any other boy! Hurrah!"
Up one street and down another, each more brilliant than the last, Elsie marched on, till suddenly a small, then a larger, pain began to make itself felt in one of her feet.
"It's my new boots," said she to herself. "Why didn't I change them? I'll stamp hard and then I shall be easy."
But somehow she was not easy. Up one street, down another. It was not so much a pain in one particular spot now as a general ache, not only in her foot, but in her whole body.
"I'm afraid I'm growing tired."
She glanced at Joe. That worthy was in high spirits, and apparently as fresh as ever. Elsie limped bravely on. Across an open space the procession wheeled, and halted again to drink lemonade out of big tubs on the sidewalk. Elsie ventured to complain to Joe.
"Oh, cheer up!" was all the comfort he had for her. "We've marched 'most half the distance now."