The
short white cotton gloves that called attention to the tanned
wrists and arms were stripped off and put in her own pocket.
Then the wreath of pine-cones was adjusted at a heretofore
unimagined angle, the hair was pulled softly into a fluffy frame,
and finally, as she met Rebecca's grateful eyes, she gave her two
approving, triumphant kisses. In a second the sensitive face
lighted into happiness; pleased dimples appeared in the cheeks,
the kissed mouth was as red as a rose, and the little fright that
had walked behind the pine-tree stepped out on the other side
Rebecca, the lovely.
As to the relative value of Miss Dearborn's accomplishments, the
decision must be left to the gentle reader; but though it is
certain that children should be properly grounded in mathematics,
no heart of flesh could bear to hear Miss Dearborn's methods
vilified who had seen her patting, pulling, squeezing Rebecca
from ugliness into beauty.
Now all was ready; the moment of fate was absolutely at hand; the
fife and drum corps led the way and the States followed; but what
actually happened Rebecca never knew; she lived through the hours
in a waking dream. Every little detail was a facet of light that
reflected sparkles, and among them all she was fairly dazzled.
The brass band played inspiring strains; the mayor spoke
eloquently on great themes; the people cheered; then the rope on
which so much depended was put into the children's hands, they
applied superhuman strength to their task, and the flag mounted,
mounted, smoothly and slowly, and slowly unwound and stretched
itself until its splendid size and beauty were revealed against
the maples and pines and blue New England sky.
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