utionary War
in his helter-skelter dooryard, and the way in which he had joined the
British forces and impersonated General Burgoyne had greatly endeared
him to her. The only difficulty was to find proper words for her
delicate mission, for, of course, if Mr. Simpson's anger were aroused,
he would politely push her out of the wagon and drive away with the
flag. Perhaps if she led the conversation in the right direction an
opportunity would present itself. She well remembered how Emma Jane
Perkins had failed to convert Jacob Moody, simply because she failed to
"lead up" to the delicate question of his manner of life. Clearing her
throat nervously, she began: "Is it likely to be fair tomorrow?"

"Guess so; clear as a bell. What's on foot; a picnic?"

"No; we're to have a grand flag-raising!" ("That is," she thought, "if
we have any flag to raise!")

"That so? Where?"

"The three villages are to club together and have a rally, and raise
the flag at the Centre. There'll be a brass band, and speakers, and the
Mayor of Portland, and the man that will be governor if he's elected,
and a dinner in the Grange Hall, and we girls are chosen to raise the
flag."

"I want to know! That'll be grand, won't it?" (Still not a sign of
consciousness on the part of Abner.)

"I hope Mrs. Fogg will take Clara Belle, for it will be splendid to look
at! Mr. Cobb is going to be Uncle Sam and drive us on the stage. Miss
Dearborn--Clara Belle's old teacher, you know--is going to be Columbia;
the girls will be the States of the Union, and oh, Mr. Simpson, I am the
one to be the State of Maine!" (This was not altogether to the point,
but a piece of information impossible to conceal.)

Mr. Simpson flourished the whipstock and gave a loud, hearty laugh. Then
he turned in his seat and regarded Rebecca curiously. "You're kind of
small, hain't ye, for so big a state as this one?" he asked.

"Any of us would be too small," replied Rebecca with dignity, "but the
committee asked me, and I am going to try hard to do well."

The tragic thought that there might be no occasion for anybody to do
anything, well or ill, suddenly overcame her here, and putting her
hand on Mr. Simpson's sleeve, she attacked the subject practically and
courageously.

"Oh, Mr. Simpson, dear Mr. Simpson, it's such a mortifying subject I
can't bear to say anything about it, but please give us back our flag!
Don't, DON'T take it over to Acreville, Mr. Simpson! We've worked so