curled and beribboned until they resembled a large
bouquet of cabbage roses themselves. Each one clasped carefully a gaily
decorated basket filled with roses, and from each and every pair of
eyes there danced sparks of rage, aimed at a huddled company of small
boys who were returning their indignation by sullen scorn mixed with
determination in their polished, freckled faces. Half way between each
group stood Eliza Pike, a glorified Eliza, from a halo of curls to
brand new small shoes. She had evidently been carrying on a losing
series of negotiations, for her usually sanguine face had an expression
of utter hopelessness, tinged with some of the others' feminine
indignation.

"Miss Elinory," she exclaimed as the singer lady came to the edge of
the porch, "I don't know what to make of the boys, they never did this
way before!"

"Why, what is the matter?" asked Miss Wingate, something of Eliza's
panic communicating itself to her own face and voice.

The boys all suddenly found interest in their own feet or the cracks in
the pavement, so Eliza as usual became the spokesman for the occasion.

"They say they just won't carry baskets of flowers, because it makes
them look silly like girls. They will march with us if you make 'em do
it, but they won't carry no baskets for nobody. I don't want Mis' Pratt
to find out how they is a-acting, for three of 'em are hers and five
Hoovers, and it is they own wedding." Eliza's voice almost became a
wail in which Miss Wingate felt inclined to join.

At this juncture, Martin Luther took it upon himself to create a
further diversion and to add fuel to the flame. By a mistake, and
through a determination to follow instructions, he had clung to little
Bettie's hand, and when she picked up one of the tiny baskets provided
for the two tots, so had he, and thus he found himself humiliatingly
equipped and on the wrong side of the yard and question. Disengaging
himself from the wide-eyed Bettie, he marched to the center of the
middle ground and cast the despised basket upon the grass.

"No girl--BOY, thank ma'am, please!" he announced with a defiant glance
at the singer lady up from under the rampant curl, and that he did not
fail in his usual shibboleth of courtesy was due to his habitual use of
it, rather than a desire to soften the effect of his announcement.

Miss Wingate sank down upon the steps in helpless dismay, and tears
began to drop from Eliza's eyes, when Mother Mayberry appeare