The boy interposed hurriedly. “That’s not quite the idea, ma’am. The boys are kinda hungry to see a sure enough mother and baby. It would be a kindness to them if you’d come yoreself. We’ll have the stage, an’ you can ride beside the driver. O’ course we don’t aim to be bossy about it, but our hearts are real set on this.” He smiled, and Hugh’s boyish grin was a winsome argument. It had the touch of sweet deference women liked. “They’re rough looking, ma’am, but none of these miners would hurt you for the world. It’s a celebration for the camp’s first baby.” “Oh, let’s go, Sister Mollie,” urged Victoria. “I wantta ride in the pee-rade.” The woman whispered with her husband. He broke out roughly: “Don’t be so damned finicky. Your dress is all right.” “We’ll come,” the young woman told the boy. “In a few minutes we’ll be ready. And thank you for wanting us.” Scot McClintock presently arrived himself and escorted the guests of honour to the stage. He assisted the young mother to the seat beside Baldy and passed the baby up to her. The infant was a plump little thing with fat dimpled arms and legs. It crowed up into Scot’s face and gurgled happily at him. Vicky was lifted up to the seat next her sister. As master of ceremonies Scot, in a long red sash, mounted on a beautiful white horse, rode at the head of the procession. The stage came next, followed by Virginia’s young and exuberant brass band. After this marched the fire organizations in their red shirts and helmets. Empty ore wagons fell into line and were quickly filled with miners. A mixed crowd of residents on foot brought up the rear. The contributions already collected had been poured from the hats into a tub. This was tied to the back of the stage, in the place where trunks and packages usually rested. All along A Street and back along B Street men fought to get at the tub with their money. The band played “Old Dan Tucker” and other popular airs, but out of deference to a divided public opinion did not give either “Yankee Doodle” or “Dixie.”[6] There were speeches, of course, full of bombast, eloquence, and local patriotism, all of which were vociferously applauded. ----- [6] The Civil War was being fought at this time, and though Nevada was far from the scene of action, sectional feeling was high. A fairly large minority of those in Virginia City and Carson were Southerners—W. M. R. ----- It was while the band was playing that the guest of honour began to cry. “Stop that damn band and give the kid a chance,” someone shouted. A hundred light-hearted sons of mirth took up the word. The band stopped in the middle of a bar, and to her mother’s embarrassment Miss Virginia Dodson entertained with a solo. The marshal of the parade rode back to the coach and smiled up at the young mother.