d again, while they
loudly applauded. "But, folks, I've got to get home to Rincon. I've
got to. And I'll give up Salvisa if I'm met fair." "Yes, yes, you'll
be met," said voices of men. "Well, here's my proposition: Mrs. Eden's
manna has took two, and I'm satisfied it should. We voted, and will stay
voted." "Yes, yes!" "Well, now, here's Sharon and Rincon, two of the
finest towns in this section, and I say Sharon and Rincon has equal
rights to get something out of this, and drop private feelings, and
everybody back their town. And I say let this lady and gentleman, who
will act elegant and on the square, take a view and nominate the finest
Rincon 3-year-old and the finest Sharon 18-month they can cut out of the
herd. And I say let's vote unanimous on their pick, and let each town
hold a first prize and go home in friendship, feeling it has been
treated right."

Universal cheers endorsed him, and he got down panting. The band played
"Union Forever," and I accompanied Mrs. Brewton to the booths. "You'll
remember!" shouted the orator urgently after us; "one apiece." We
nodded. "Don't get mixed," he appealingly insisted. We shook our heads,
and out of the booths rushed two women, and simultaneously dashed their
infants in our faces. "You'll never pass Cuba by!" entreated one. "This
is Bosco Grady," said the other. Cuba wore an immense garment made of
the American flag, but her mother whirled her out of it in a second.
"See them dimples; see them knees!" she said. "See them feet! Only feel
of her toes!" "Look at his arms!" screamed the mother of Bosco. "Doubled
his weight in four months." "Did he indeed, ma'am?" said Cuba's mother;
"well, he hadn't much to double." "Didn't he, then? Didn't he indeed?"
"No at you; he didn't indeed and indeed! I guess Cuba is known to
Sharon. I guess Sharon'll not let Cuba be slighted." "Well, and I guess
Rincon'll see that Bosco Grady gets his rights." "Ladies," said Mrs.
Brewton, towering but poetical with her curl, "I am a mother myself, and
raised five noble boys and two sweet peerless girls." This stopped them
immediately; they stared at her and her chintz peonies as she put the
curl gently away from her medallion and proceeded: "But never did I
think of myself in those dark weary days of the long ago. I thought of
my country and the Lost Cause." They stared at her, fascinated. "Yes,
m'm," whispered they, quite humbly. "Now," said Mrs. Brewton, "what is
more sacred than an American mother