moment, a lovely angel with black hair and a scarlet apron would ring
a large bell. Simultaneously, a lovely angel with brown hair and a
white apron would fly to the spot, and the children would go through
a mysterious process like the swarming of bees around a queen.
Slowly, reluctantly, painfully, the swarm settled itself into lines
in conformance with some hidden law or principle unknown to Marm
Lisa. Then, when comparative order had been evolved from total
chaos, the most beautiful angel of all would appear in a window; and
the reason she always struck the onlookers as a being of beauty and
majesty was partly, perhaps, because her head seemed to rise from a
cloud of white (which was in reality only a fichu of white mull), and
partly because she always wore a slender fillet of steel to keep back
the waves of her fair hair. It had a little point in front, and when
the sun shone on its delicate, fine-cut prisms it glittered like a
halo. After the appearance of this heavenly apparition the endless
lines of little people wended their was into the building, and
enchanting strains of music were wafted through the open windows,
supplemented sometimes by the inspiring rattle of drums and the blare
of instruments hitherto indissolubly associated with street parades.

Who? Why? Whence? Whither? What for? These were some of the
questions that assailed Marm Lisa's mind, but in so incoherent a form
that she left them, with all other questions, unanswered. Atlantic
and Pacific were curious, too, but other passions held greater sway
with them; for when the children disappeared and the music ceased,
they called loudly for more, and usually scratched and pinched Marm
Lisa as they were lifted down from the fence; not seeing daily how
anybody else could be held answerable for the cessation of the
entertainment, and scratches and pinches being the only remedial
agencies that suggested themselves.