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First Selectman Sproul halted for a few moments on the steps of the town house the next morning in order to gaze out surlily on the left-overs of that day of celebration. Smyrna's village square was unsightly with a litter of evil-smelling firecracker remnants, with torn paper bags, broken canes, dented tin horns and all the usual flotsam marking the wake of a carnival crowd.
Instead of the firecracker stuff that Uncle Henry so bitterly complained of, she, being an Irish woman, could concoct a stew that would make one's hair curl; and her pastry was succulent and sweet, and literally melted in the mouth. Her coffee ah! who could make better coffee?
Cousin Tom jumped as if a firecracker had exploded in his vicinity, and he looked at Patty with a dazed expression. "Bless my soul!" he said, "why, little one, I forgot all about you. Will you forgive me? Have you been here long? I was reading, you see, and I didn't hear you come." "I've been here an hour, Cousin Tom," said Patty, demurely. "An hour? No! Is it possible?
Goings and comings, cries, exclamations, bursts of laughter, a serpent-cracker turned loose, a firecracker set off all contributed to swell the uproar. Here a bench had a leg broken off and the people fell to the ground amid the laughter of the crowd. They were visitors who had come from afar to observe and now found themselves the observed.
Finally he thrust his hand inside his pocket and drew out the letter again. He held it without reading for an instant and then tore it up. When the car came Jan was still tearing up the letter, his thick fingers trying vainly to divide it into tinier bits. There are no gold and scarlet lanterns bobbing like fat little oriental Pierrots over this street. No firecracker colors daub its sad walls.
Ha!" laughed Uncle Wiggily. "They will have a hard time doing that, for my tail is so short that the boys would burn their fingers if they tried to tie a firecracker to it." "Then look out that they don't fasten a skyrocket to your long ears," said the second cousin to Grandfather Prickly Porcupine, as he wrapped up some lettuce and carrot sandwiches for Uncle Wiggily to take with him.
Pigg had put away the bread and meat, left over after giving the fox some, who should come along but Percival, the old, circus dog. He came to pay a friendly call on Dr. Pigg, but, no sooner had he reached the front door than he cried out: "Oh, I smell something burning," and, sure enough it was the firecracker string sizzling away. "Maybe the house is afire," said Dr. Pigg. "Let's look!"
A missile came in that some officer at once hailed as a whizz bang. It is called that, for that is just exactly the sound it makes. It is like a giant firecracker, and it would be amusing if one did not know it was deadly. These missiles are not fired by the big guns behind the lines, but by the small trench cannon worked, as a rule, by compressed air.
Bang! went the firecracker, right close to the rough's left ear. He set up a howl of pain, for he had been burnt enough to make it smart well. "There, he's paid back," said Fred, and then the two automobiles passed on, leaving the roughs in the distance. "This is glorious!" "It certainly could not be finer, Dick." "Some day, Dora, I am going to take you for a long ride," went on Dick.
"You could have it if it was candy," promised Buddy, real politely, "only it isn't," and he looked at the queer red thing from all sides, and he couldn't make out what it was, and neither could Bawly. Well, I'll tell you what it was, so you can understand the story better. It was a firecracker.
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