“‘When the drum beat at dead of night,’”
said Polly, valiantly belaboring her right palm with the clenched fingers of her left hand.
“‘Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.’”
“There’s not a bit of fault to be found with that,” said Hiram, as he received the lantern from the hands of his pupil, who had seized it and swung it wildly about when the “fires of death” were lighting. “Of course, the lantern will be behind you the night of the entertainment, ready for use.”
“Of course,” said Polly. “Now comes the best verse of all, I think, Mr. Hiram:
“‘By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,’
I shall have a candle and the tin horn that night, you know—
“‘Each horseman drew his battle-blade—’”
Uncle Blodgett’s gift was drawn with a fierce flourish—