“True, ‘the old order changeth,’” said Miss Bond, “but knighthood has not passed away.  The flower of chivalry has blossomed anew in this new world, and America, too, has her Hall of the Shields.”

Just a moment the curtains were drawn together, and then were widely parted again, as a chorus of voices rang out with the words: 

     “Hail, Columbia, happy land;
     Hail, ye heroes, heaven-born band!”

In that moment, on every shield had been hung the pictured face of some well-known man who had helped to make his country a power among the nations; presidents, patriots, philanthropists, statesmen, inventors, and poets,—­there they were, from army and navy, city and farm, college halls and humble cabins,—­a long, long line, and the first was Washington, and the last was the “Hero of Manila.”

Cheer after cheer went up, and it might have been well to have ended the programme there, but to satisfy the military-loving little Ginger, one more was added.

“There ought to be a Goddess of Liberty in it,” she insisted, “because it is Washington’s birthday; and if we had been doing it by ourselves we were going to have something in it about Cuba, on papa’s account.”

So when the curtain rose the last time, it was on Sally Fairfax as a gorgeous Goddess of Liberty, conferring knighthood on two boys who stood for the Army and Navy, while a little dark-eyed girl knelt at their feet as Cuba, the distressed maiden whom their chivalry had rescued.

It was late when the performance closed; later still when the children reached home that night, for Mrs. MacIntyre had determined to have a flash-light picture taken of them, and they had to wait until the photographer could send home for his camera.

After they reached the house they could hardly be persuaded to undress.  Virginia trailed up and down the halls in her royal robes, Malcolm clanked around in his suit of mail and plumed helmet, and Keith stood before a mirror, admiring the handsome little figure it showed him.

“I hate to take it off,” he said, fingering the dazzling collar, ablaze with jewels.  “I’d like to be a knight always, and wear a sword and spurs every day.”

“So would I,” said Malcolm, beginning to yawn sleepily.  “I wish that Jonesy had been well enough to go to-night.  Isn’t it splendid that the Benefit turned out so well?  Aunt Allison says there is plenty of money now to get Jonesy’s clothes and pay his board till papa comes, and send him back to Barney, too, if papa thinks best and hasn’t any better plan.”

“I wish there’d been enough money to buy a nice little home out here in the country for him and Barney.  Wouldn’t it have been lovely if there had a-been?” cried Keith.

“Well, I should say!” answered Malcolm.  “Maybe we can have another benefit some day and make enough for that.”

With this pleasant prospect before them, they laid aside their knightly garments, hoping to put them on again soon in Jonesy’s behalf, and talked about the home that might be his some day, until they fell asleep.