Far as the eye could see, either way, the street was two parallels of
packed humanity. Both sidewalks, up and down, were loaded to capacity
and spilling off surplus down the side-streets. Navigation was next to
impossible; as for crossing you were a madman to think of such a thing.
At the sidewalks' edge policemen patrolled up and down in the street
with their incessant cry of "Back there!"--pausing now and then to
dislodge small boys from trees, whither they had climbed at enormous
peril to themselves and innocent by-standers. Bunting, flags, streamers
were everywhere; now and then a floral arch bearing words of welcome
spanned the roadway; circus day in a small town was not a dot upon the
atmosphere of thrilled expectancy so all-pervasive here. It was, in
fact, the crowning occasion of the Confederate Reunion, and the fading
remnants of Lee's armies were about to pass in annual parade and review.
Mrs. Weyland's house stood full on the line of march. It was the house
she had come to as a bride; she owned it; and because it could not
easily be converted over her head into negotiable funds, it had escaped
the predacious clutches of Henry G. Surface. After the crash, it would
doubtless have been sensible to sell it and take something cheaper; but
sentiment made her cling to this house, and her daughter, in time, went
to work to uphold sentiment's hands. It was not a large house, or a fine
one, but it did have a very comfortable little porch. To-day this porch
was beautifully decorated, like the whole town, with the colors of two
countries, one living and one dead; and the decorations for the dead
were three times greater than the decorations for the living. And why
not? Yet, at that, Sharlee was liberal-minded and a thorough-going
nationalist. On some houses, the decorations for the dead were five
times greater, like Benjamin's mess; on others, ten times; on yet
others, no colors at all floated but the beloved Stars and Bars.
Upon the steps of Mrs. Weyland's porch sat Mr. Queed, come by special
invitation of Mrs. Weyland's daughter to witness the parade.
The porch, being so convenient for seeing things, was hospitably taxed
to its limits. New people kept turning in at the gate, mostly ladies,
mostly white-haired ladies wearing black, and Sharlee was incessantly
springing up to greet them. However, Queed, feeling that the proceedings
might be instructive to him, had had the foresight to come early, before
the sidewalks solidified with spectators; and at first, and
spasmodically thereafter, he had some talk with Sharlee.
"So you didn't forget?" she said, in greeting him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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