Fanny always became friendly
with the woman next her in a crowd. That was her mother in
her. One could hear the music of the band, now. Fanny
glanced at her watch. It was not quite two. Oh, well, she
would wait and see some of it. Her mind was still too
freshly packed with European impressions to receive any real
idea of the value of this pageant, she told herself. She
knew she did not feel particularly interested. But she
waited.
Another surging forward. It was no longer, "Here they
come!" but, "Here they are!"
And here they were.
A squad of mounted police, on very prancy horses. The men
looked very ruddy, and well set-up and imposing. Fanny had
always thrilled to anything in uniform, given sufficient
numbers of them. Another police squad. A brass band, on
foot. And then, in white, on a snow-white charger, holding
a white banner aloft, her eyes looking straight ahead, her
face very serious and youthful, the famous beauty and
suffrage leader, Mildred Inness. One of the few famous
beauties who actually was a beauty.
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