lpitating with nervousness; Clara Belle Simpson gazing cross-eyed but
adoring from a seat on the side; and in the far, far distance, on the
very outskirts of the crowd, a tall man standing in a wagon--a tall,
loose-jointed man with red upturned mustaches, and a gaunt white horse
headed toward the Acreville road.

Loud applause greeted the state of Maine, the slender little white-clad
figure standing on the mossy boulder that had been used as the centre of
the platform. The sun came up from behind a great maple and shone full
on the star-spangled banner, making it more dazzling than ever, so that
its beauty drew all eyes upward.

Abner Simpson lifted his vagrant shifting gaze to its softy fluttering
folds and its splendid massing of colors, thinking:

"I don't know's anybody'd ought to steal a flag--the thunderin' idjuts
seem to set such store by it, and what is it, anyway? Nothin; but a
sheet o' buntin!"

Nothing but a sheet of bunting? He looked curiously at the rapt faces
of the mothers, their babies asleep in their arms; the parted lips and
shining eyes of the white-clad girls; at Cap'n Lord, who had been in
Libby prison, and Nat Strout, who had left an arm at Bull Run; at the
friendly, jostling crowd of farmers, happy, eager, absorbed, their
throats ready to burst with cheers. Then the breeze served, and he heard
Rebecca's clear voice saying:

"For it's your star, my star, all the stars together, That make our
country's flag so proud To float in the bright fall weather!"

"Talk about stars! She's got a couple of em right in her head," thought
Simpson.... "If I ever seen a young one like that lyin; on anybody's
doorstep I'd hook her quicker'n a wink, though I've got plenty to home,
the Lord knows! And I wouldn't swap her off neither.... Spunky little
creeter, too; settin; up in the wagon lookin' bout's big as a pint o'
cider, but keepin' right after the goods!... I vow I'm bout sick o' my
job! Never WITH the crowd, allers JEST on the outside, s if I wa'n't as
good's they be! If it paid well, mebbe I wouldn't mind, but they're so
thunderin' stingy round here, they don't leave anything decent out for
you to take from em, yet you're reskin' your liberty n' reputation jest
the same!... Countin' the poor pickin's n' the time I lose in jail I
might most's well be done with it n' work out by the day, as the folks
want me to; I'd make bout's much n' I don't know's it would be any
harder!"

He could see Rebecca steppi