and led. But at the church, with unexpected abruptness,
the band halted, turned; it fell apart, and the procession came through;
it came right on through and up the steps, a line of uniforms and swords
on either side from curb to pillar, and halted.

Aghast, between two glittering files, the orphaned children shrank into
the shadow behind a pillar, while upstreamed from the carriages below
an unending line--bare-headed men and ladies bearing flowers. Behind,
below, about, closing in on every side, crowded people, a sea of people.

The orphaned children found themselves swept from their hiding by the
crowd and unwillingly jostled forward into prominence.

A frowning man, with a sword in his hand, seemed to be threatening
everybody; his face was red and his voice was big, and he glittered with
many buttons. All at once he caught sight of the orphaned children and
threatened them vehemently.

"Here," said the frowning man, "right in here," and he placed them in
line. The orphaned children were appalled, and even in the face of the
man cried out in protest. But the man of the sword did not hear, for
the reason that he did not listen. Instead he was addressing a large
and stout lady immediately behind them.

"Separated from the family in the confusion, the grandchildren
evidently--just see them in, please."

And suddenly the orphaned children found themselves a part of the
procession as grandchildren. The nature of a procession is to proceed.
And the grandchildren proceeded with it. They could not help themselves.
There was no time for protest, for, pushed by the crowd, which closed
and swayed above their heads, and piloted by the stout lady close
behind, they were swept into the church and up the aisle, and when they
came again to themselves were in the inner corner of a pew near the
front.

The church was decked with flags. So was the Third Reader room. It was
hung with flags for The Exhibition.

Hattie in the corner nudged Sadie. Sadie urged Emmy Lou, who, next to
the stout lady, touched her timidly. "We have to get out; we've got to
say our parts."

"Not now," said the lady, reassuringly; "the program is at the
cemetery."

Emmy Lou did not understand, and she tried to tell the lady.

"S-h-," said the person, engaged with the spectacle and the crowd;
"sh-h-" Abashed, Emmy Lou sat, sh-h-ed.

Hattie arose. It was terrible to rise in church, and at a funeral, and
the church was filled, the aisles were crowded,