'The Flag House'; so called, because from that humble
porch, the first Stars and Stripes ever seen in Winton flung its colors
to the breeze. The original flag is still in possession of a lineal
descendant of its first owner, who is, unfortunately, not an inhabitant
of this town." The boyish gravity of tone and manner was not all
assumed now.

No one spoke for a moment; eleven pairs of young eyes were looking out
at the little weather-stained building with new interest. "I thought,"
Bell Ward said at last, "that they called it the _flag_ place, because
someone of that name had used to live there."

"So did I," Hilary said.

As the stage moved on, Shirley leaned back for another look. "I shall
get father to come and sketch it," she said. "Isn't it the quaintest
old place?"

"We will now proceed," Tom announced, "to the village green, where I
shall have the pleasure of relating to you certain anecdotes regarding
the part it played in the early life of this interesting old village."

"Not too many, old man," Tracy Dixon suggested hurriedly, "or it may
prove a one-sided pleasure."

The green lay in the center of the town,--a wide, open space, with
flagstaff in the middle; fine old elms bordered it on all four sides.
The Vermont House faced it, on the north, and on the opposite side
stood the general store, belonging to Mr. Ward, with one or two smaller
places of business.

"The business section" of the town, Tom called it, and quite failed to
notice Tracy's lament that he had not brought his opera glasses with
him. "Really, you know," Tracy explained to his companions, "I should
have liked awfully to see it. I'm mighty interested in business
sections."

"Cut that out," his brother Bob commanded, "the chap up in front is
getting ready to hold forth again."

They were simple enough, those anecdotes, that "the chap up in front"
told them; but in the telling, the boy's voice lost again all touch of
mock gravity. His listeners, sitting there in the June sunshine,
looking out across the old green, flecked with the waving tree shadows,
and bright with the buttercups nodding here and there, seemed to see
those men and boys drilling there in the far-off summer twilights; to
hear the sharp words of command; the sound of fife and drum. And the
familiar names mentioned more than once, well-known village names,
names belonging to their own families in some instances, served to
deepen the impression.

"Why," Edna Ra