"I'd just love to," cried the girl, "but I'm only a humble member of the
procession, following the band and the chariot wheels of the conqueror."
Her strong brown face was all aglow with ardour.

"Conqueror!" growled Dunn. "Not much of a conqueror!"

"Why not? Oh fudge! The game? What matters the game? It's the play we
care about."

"Well spoken, lassie," said the doctor. "That's the true sport."

"Aren't they awful?" cried Dunn. "Look at that young Canadian idiot up
there."

"Well, if you ask me, I think he's a perfect dear," said Miss Brodie,
deliberately. "I'm sure I know him; anyway I'm going to encourage him
with my approval." And she waved her hand at Martin.

The master of ceremonies responded by taking off his hat and making a
sweeping bow, still keeping up the beat. The crowd, following his eyes,
turned their attention to the young lady, much to Dunn's delight.

"Oh," she gasped, "they'll be chanting me next! Good-bye! I'm off!" And
she darted back to the company of her friends marching on the pavement.

At this point Martin held up both arms and called for silence.

"Second verse," he shouted, "second verse! Get the words now!"