end as well as the middle of the procession. She had been utterly
unable to pin on her first American hat with hatpins, so had wisely
tied it to her head with a large red-bordered handkerchief which she
had brought over from the old country.

Jocelyn Brownlee, sitting beside David in his smart rig, had begged him
to go last so that she could see everything. This was her first
country festival and no child in that throng was so happily, wildly
eager to drain the day to the very last drop of enjoyment.

Jocelyn and David however did not end the procession. Behind them,
though quite a way back, was Uncle Tony's brother William. William was
driving his span of grays so slowly that the pretty creatures tossed
their heads restlessly, impatiently, lonely for the companionship of
the gay throng ahead.

But though their owner knew what they wanted he held them back sternly.
But he looked as wistfully as they at the fluttering flags and listened
as keenly to the puffs of music that the wind dashed into his face
every now and then.

Every Decoration Day Uncle Tony's brother William rode just so, slowly
and alone at the end of the gay procession. On that day he was a
lonely and tragic figure. Loved and respected every other day in the
year, on this he was shunned. For he was the only man in all Green
Valley who, when conscripted, would not go to the war but sent a
substitute, one Bob Saunders.

Bob was killed at Gettysburg and nobody mourned him, not even his very
own sister though Green Valley was duly proud of the way he died. Only