skies would do their very best, as a matter of course.


When the last star began to fade and the first little breath of a new
morning ruffled the soft gray silence a sudden sharp volley rang out.
It was the Green Valley boys setting off cannon crackers in front of
the bank. And it must be said right here that that first signal volley
was about all the fireworks ever indulged in in Green Valley. This
little town, nestling in the peaceful shelter of gentle hills and
softly singing woods, naturally disliked harsh, ugly sounds and was
moreover far too thrifty, too practical and sane a community to put
firearms and flaming death into the hands of its children. Green
Valley patriotism was of a higher order.

At that sharp volley Green Valley awoke with a start and a laugh and
ran to put flags on its gateposts and porch pillars and loop bunting
around its windows. And when the morning broke like a great pink rose
and shed its rosy light over the dimpling hills and lacy, misty
woodlands the old town was a-flutter with banners, everybody was about
through with breakfast and certain childless and highly efficient
ladies were already taking their front and side hair out of curl papers.

At eight o'clock sharp the school bell summoned the children. Then a
little later the church bell summoned the veterans. And by nine the
procession was marching down Maple Street, flags waving, band playing
and every face aglow.

First came the little tots all in white, the boy babies bearing little
flags and the girl babies little baskets of flowers, with little
Eleanor Williams carrying in her tiny hands a silken banner on which