thereon the colors he was to wear. Marston,
without looking at the Blight, held his
up to the little sister and the Blight
carelessly turned her face while the demure
sister was busy with her ribbons, but I noticed
that the little ear next to me was tingling
red for all her brave look of unconcern.
Only the Knight of the Cumberland sat
still.

``What!'' said the Hon. Sam, rising to
his feet, his eyes twinkling and his mask
of humor on again; ``sees this masked
springal''--the Hon. Sam seemed much
enamored of that ancient word--``no maid
so fair that he will not beg from her the
boon of colors gay that he may carry them
to victory and receive from her hands a
wreath therefor?'' Again the Knight of
the Cumberland seemed not to know that
the Hon. Sam's winged words were meant
for him, so the statesman translated them
into a mutual vernacular.

``Remember what I told you, son,'' he
said. ``Hold up yo' spear here to some
one of these gals jes' like the other fellows
are doin','' and as he sat down he tried
surreptitiously to indicate the Blight with
his index finger, but the knight failed to see