_Chorus._ "Then hurrah for the Union, Hurrah for the Union, Hurrah for the Union, And the Red, White, and Blue."
"Ah! now's the time for the bouquet!" I whispered to Annie; and I took it out from under the seat, and threw it as hard as I could. The little dog who lived with Annie, thought I did it for him to catch. He bounced upon the stage, barking and wagging his tail till he nearly wagged it off; and seized the bouquet, while Annie's brother tried to get it away; and they chased each other up and down the room, the minstrels and the company all laughing ready to kill themselves. What fun it was!
At last Annie's brother got about a quarter of the flowers away from the dog; and then he put his hand on his heart, and made a bow lower than the first; and Annie was afraid he had almost broken the bone in his back.
After this funny concert was over, the musicians, who had been sent for from New York, began to play dancing tunes; and all the company went into another large parlor, and commenced to dance; while Annie's brothers and their friends got scrubbing brushes, and soap, and hot water, and scrubbed and rubbed, and scrubbed and rubbed, till they nearly scrubbed the noses off their faces; but it was not very long before they came in, looking as white and clean as could be; only Annie thought they had made a great mistake--taking out their splendid breastpins. She said, "Why, Aunt Fanny, those breastpins are so _brighty bright!_ oh, how I wish I had one! Don't you?"
"Yes, dear," I answered; "and I will go and ask the jeweller to give me one for you to keep. You shall choose it yourself."
This was delightful! and Annie and I danced and laughed, and had some ice cream in a snug little corner together; and she sat up ever so late, without wanting to shut her blue eyes once; and when the company went away they kissed Annie, and shook hands with the handsome, gentlemanly little boys, and thanked them for their nice, funny concert. I don't know but what some of them kissed one or two of the youngest of Annie's brothers. I did; but that's because I'm only Aunt Fanny, which makes a difference, you see. I'm so little, that half the time the children forget I am quite old. They catch hold of me, and make me play so hard, that I am afraid I shall never get to be a very mouldy old lady, sitting in a corner, with my head tied up in a flannel petticoat, to keep off the draught. I'm afraid I shall always be frisky. What do _you_ think about it, you little apple dumplings?