ressive than a
vicarious share in the flag-raising.

Miss Dearborn was to be Columbia and the older girls of the two schools
were to be the States. Such trade in muslins and red, white, and blue
ribbons had never been known since "Watson kep' store," and the number
of brief white petticoats hanging out to bleach would leave caused the
passing stranger to imagine Riverboro a continual dancing-school.

Juvenile virtue, both male and female, reached an almost impossible
height, for parents had only to lift a finger and say, "You shan't go
to the flag-raising!" and the refractory spirit at once armed itself
for new struggles toward the perfect life. Mr. Jeremiah Cobb had
consented to impersonate Uncle Sam, and was to drive Columbia and the
States to the "raising" on the top of his own stage. Meantime the boys
were drilling, the ladies were cutting and basting and stitching, and
the girls were sewing on stars; for the starry part of the spangled
banner was to remain with each of them in turn until she had performed
her share of the work.

It was felt by one and all a fine and splendid service indeed to help
in the making of the flag, and if Rebecca was proud to be of the chosen
ones, so was her Aunt Jane Sawyer, who had taught her all her delicate
stitches.

On a long-looked-for afternoon in August the minister's wife drove up
to the brick-house door, and handed out the great piece of bunting to
Rebecca, who received it in her arms with as much solemnity as if it
had been a child awaiting baptismal rites.

"I'm so glad!" she sighed happily. "I thought it would never come my
turn!"

"You should have had it a week ago, but Huldah Meserve upset the ink
bottle over her star, and we had to baste on another one. You are the
last, though, and then we shall sew the stars and stripes together, and
Seth Strout will get the top ready for hanging. Just think, it won't be
many days before you children will be pulling the rope with all your
strength, the band will be playing, the men will be cheering, and the
new flag will go higher and higher, till the red, white, and blue shows
against the sky!"

Rebecca's eyes fairly blazed. "Shall I 'hem on' my star, or buttonhole
it?" she asked.

"Look at all the others and make the most beautiful stitches you can,
that's all. It is your star, you know, and you can even imagine it is
your state, and try and have it the best of all. If everybody else is
trying to do the same thing with her