met, things were found to be unpropitious. Thorny had gone out of town
with his sister to pass the day, two of the best players did not
appear, and the others were somewhat exhausted by the festivities,
which began at sunrise for them. So they lay about on the grass in the
shade of the big elm, languidly discussing their various wrongs and
disappointments.

"It's the meanest Fourth I ever saw. Can't have no crackers, because
somebody's horse got scared last year," growled Sam Kitteridge,
bitterly resenting the stern edict which forbade free-born citizens to
burn as much gunpowder as they liked on that glorious day.

"Last year Jimmy got his arm blown off when they fired the old cannon.
Didn't we have a lively time going for the doctors and getting him
home?" asked another boy, looking as if he felt defrauded of the most
interesting part of the anniversary, because no accident had occurred.

"Ain't going to be fire-works either, unless somebody's barn burns up.
Don't I just wish there would," gloomily responded another youth who
had so rashly indulged in pyrotechnics on a former occasion that a
neighbor's cow had been roasted whole.

"I wouldn't give two cents for such a slow old place as this. Why, last
Fourth at this time, I was rumbling through Boston streets up top of
our big car, all in my best toggery. Hot as pepper, but good fun
looking in at the upper windows and hearing the women scream when the
old thing waggled round and I made believe I was going to tumble off,"
said Ben, leaning on his bat with the air of a man who had seen the
world and felt some natural regret at descending from so lofty a
sphere.