of gayety and excitement, hurrahing, singing "Hail Columbia!" "Yankee Doodle," and "Star-spangled Banner."
Rupert came in a little late to breakfast, from a stroll down town, and reported that a wonderfully large flag-staff had been planted in front of the court-house, and that the stars and stripes were floating from its top.
The Sunday schools were to unite and march in procession through the streets of the town, then separate, and each school betake itself to its own church, there to enjoy a little feast prepared by the parents and friends of the scholars.
There had been a good deal of baking going on in Mrs. Keith's kitchen the day before, and shortly after breakfast a large basket was packed with delicacies and sent to the church.
Then mother and Mildred had their hands full for an hour or so in dressing the children and themselves for the grand occasion.
They made a goodly show as they issued from the gate and took their way toward the place of rendezvous; the girls all in white muslin and blue ribbons, the boys in their neat Sunday suits, and each with a flower or tiny nosegay in his button-hole.
The house had to be shut up, as Celestia Ann claimed the holiday, but was left in its usual neat and orderly condition, by means of early rising and extra exertion on the part of the three older girls. Otherwise Mildred could not have been content to go, and delay was dangerous, as on account of the heat of the weather the procession was to move by nine o'clock.
The whole town was in holiday attire, and everywhere smiling faces were seen.
A shower in the night had laid the dust without turning it to mud, and the Sunday school celebration proved quite a success.
The children enjoyed their treat of cakes, candies and lemonade, then the little Keiths went home, tired enough to be glad to sit down and rest while father, mother and Milly told them stories of other Fourths that they could remember.
After dinner Mildred went to call on her friend Claudina, carrying with her another book for Effie Prescott.
"Dunallan," had been returned in perfect condition and with a little note of thanks.
Effie met Mildred with a pleased look, a cheerful greeting, and warm thanks for the book.
"I am so glad to see you!" she said, "and it was very kind in you to come; for I am owing you a call. I thought I should have paid it long ago, but there are so many days when I don't feel quite equal to the walk."
"You do walk out then?"
"Oh yes! every day when the weather is good. That is part of the cure. But I cannot walk fast or far."
"I hope you are improving."
"Yes, I believe so, but very slowly. I'm never confined to bed, but never able to do much, and the books are such a blessing."
From that they fell into talk about books and authors and were mutually pleased to find their tastes were similar as regarded literature, and that their religious views accorded.
It was the beginning of a friendship which became a source of great enjoyment to both.
Effie had learned to love Mrs. Keith. That drew Mildred toward her; and their common faith in Christ and love to Him, was a yet stronger bond of union.
They regretted that they had been so long comparative strangers, and Mildred felt well rewarded for the kind thoughtfulness on her part, which had at length brought them together.
But leaving Effie to the perusal of the book, she walked on to Squire Chetwood's.
Mrs. Chetwood and Claudina, in their deep mourning dress, sat quietly at home, with no heart to join in the mirth and jollity going on about them; yet calm and resigned.
"Ah," sighed the mother, tears springing to her eyes, as the joyous shouts of children penetrated to their silent room, "our little darling would have been so gay and happy to-day! But why do I say that! I know she is far, far happier in that blessed land than she could ever possibly have been here."
"I know that," said Claudina, weeping, "and I do rejoice in the thought of her blessedness; but oh, the house is so dreary and desolate without her! O Mildred, how rich you are with four sisters!"
There was a knock at the street door, answered by the girl, and the next moment Miss Drybread walked into the parlor where the ladies were sitting.
She was courteously received and invited to take a seat; which she did, drawing a deep sigh.
"Are you well, Miss Damaris?" asked Mrs. Chetwood.
"Yes; I'm always well; I try and do right, and have no sick fancies; am never troubled with the vapors. I hope you're well?"
"As usual, thank you."
"You've had a great affliction."
No response, for the torn hearts could scarce endure the rude touch; her tone was so cold and hard.
"I hope you're resigned," she went on. "You know we ought to be; especially considering that we deserve all our troubles and trials."
"I trust we are," said Mrs. Chetwood, "we can rejoice in her happiness while we weep for ourselves."
"Don't you think you made an idol of that child? I think you did, and that that is the reason why she was taken; for God won't allow idols."
"We loved her very dearly," sobbed the bereaved mother, "but I do not think we made an idol of her, or ever indulged her to her hurt."
"The heart is deceitful," observed the schoolma'am with emphasis, "and putting on mourning, and shedding so many tears, doesn't look like submission and resignation. I don't see how a Christian can act so."
"Wait till you are bereaved," replied the mother, sobs almost choking her utterance.
"And remember how Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, and that he never reproved the Jews for putting on sackcloth and ashes when mourning for their dead," said Mildred, adding, in her uncontrollable indignation, "I think you might be at better work, Miss Drybread, than wrenching the hearts of these bereaved ones whom Jesus loves, and in all whose afflictions He is afflicted."
"I'm only doing my duty," retorted the spinster; "the Bible says we must reprove our brethren and not suffer sin upon them."
"It says 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.' They are the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, and if you turn to the passage and read on a little further, you will see that people who try to pull the mote out of a brother's eye while there is a beam in their own, He calls hypocrites."
"I can understand an insinuation as well as the next one," said Miss Drybread, rising in wrath, "and let me tell you, Miss, that I consider you the most impertinent young person I ever met.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. and Miss Chetwood; I wish you joy of your friend," and she swept from the room and the house, before the astonished ladies could utter a word.
"What a disagreeable, self-righteous old hypocrite!" cried Mildred, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing. "To think of her talking to you in that cold-hearted, cruel manner, Mrs. Chetwood and Claudina. But there! I am judging her. Oh dear! oh dear!"
She
