We didn't know it then but another wagon was already being loaded very
privately in town with ice and bottles, glasses and lemons and mint and
kegs and schooners. I am awfully glad that the Equality League had
forgotten all about the wetting up of the rally, because I don't believe
we would have been equal to the situation with Aunt Augusta and Jane
both prohibition enthusiasts, but it did so promote the sentiment of
peace and good cheer during the day for us to all feel that the men had
not failed us in a crisis, as well as in the natural qualities inherent
in their offering for the feast. There was a whole case of Uncle Peter's
private stock. Could human nature have done better than that?
But if we did forget to provide the liquids, I am glad we had the
foresight to provide other viands enough to feed a regiment, because a
whole army came.
"Evelina," gasped Jane, as we stood on the edge of the bluff that
commands a view of almost all the Harpeth Valley stretched out like the
very garden of Eden itself, crossed by silver creeks, lined with broad
roads and mantled in the richness of the harvest haze, "can all those
wagons full of people be coming to accept our invitation?"
"Yes, they're our guests," I answered, with the elation of generations
of rally-givers rising in my breast, as I saw the stream of wagons and
carriages and buggies, with now and then a motor-car, all approaching
Glendale from all points of the compass.
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