“You rascal!” he exclaimed. “You runaway! You patriot! God bless you!” Then he released Bob, and grasped Bob’s father’s hand. “Rhett Bannister,” he said, “I never took hold of but one man’s hand in my life before, that I was prouder to shake, and that was Abraham Lincoln’s.” Then when he got his voice again, he added:-- “Fall out, both of you. Sarah Jane Stark wants to see you at her house before you go to the square.” So they followed him three blocks around, and down to the house of Sarah Jane Stark. She was there in the hall, waiting for them. “Bob Bannister,” she said, “I love you!” And she put her hands up on his broad shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. Then she turned to Bob’s father, and, without a word, and much to his amazement and confusion, she saluted him in the same way. “There!” she exclaimed, “that’s the first time I’ve kissed a man in forty years. I never expect to kiss another, but--to-day--it’s worth it. There, not a word! I know what I’m doing. Go in there, both of you. March!” She opened the parlor door, thrust them both into the room, and closed the door on them without another word. In that room were Mary Bannister and Louise. At the end of fifteen minutes, Sarah Jane Stark came back down the hall and knocked briskly. “Come,” she said, “it’s time to go to the square. You needn’t think you can stay here and make love all day. And I won’t give you a thing to eat. You’ve got to go up to the tent and eat with the rest of us.” On the way up she walked with Bob. She had a thousand questions to ask, nor could Bob get one quite answered before a new one would strike him squarely between the eyes. But when she said: “And where’s that dear sergeant who took breakfast with us one morning, and who couldn’t say grace; what became of him?” and Bob answered, “He was killed at Cold Harbor, Miss Stark,” she was silent for a full minute. They were just ready to sit down to dinner in the big tent when the Bannisters arrived. A place had been reserved for them at the head of the table, two and two on each side of the master of the feast, with all the other veterans and their wives and daughters and sweethearts in line below, and the patriotic citizens of Mount Hermon filling up the rest of the long tables. That was a dinner! In the whole history of Mount Hermon nothing had been known to equal it. And when it was over, and the tables had been partly cleared, the flag at the end of the tent was drawn aside, and there on the platform were the speakers, the singers, and the band. A chorus of girls, dressed in white, with little flags in their hands, sang “America.” There was a brief and fervent prayer by the old clergyman who had married nearly every one’s father and mother in Mount Hermon, and who knew all the middle-aged people by their first names. Then the burgess of the borough delivered the address of welcome, and the band played. After that the chairman of the meeting rose and rapped for order.