The street was garlanded with yellow and white bunting; there were
processions and "floats" and brass bands. Marcus Schouler was in his
element during the whole time of the celebration. He was one of the
marshals of the parade, and was to be seen at every hour of the
day, wearing a borrowed high hat and cotton gloves, and galloping a
broken-down cab-horse over the cobbles. He carried a baton covered with
yellow and white calico, with which he made furious passes and gestures.
His voice was soon reduced to a whisper by continued shouting, and he
raged and fretted over trifles till he wore himself thin. McTeague was
disgusted with him. As often as Marcus passed the window of the flat the
dentist would mutter:
"Ah, you think you're smart, don't you?"
The result of the festival was the organizing of a body known as the
"Polk Street Improvement Club," of which Marcus was elected secretary.
McTeague and Trina often heard of him in this capacity through Heise the
harness-maker. Marcus had evidently come to have political aspirations.
It appeared that he was gaining a reputation as a maker of speeches,
delivered with fiery emphasis, and occasionally reprinted in the
"Progress," the organ of the club--"outraged constituencies," "opinions
warped by personal bias," "eyes blinded by party prejudice," etc.
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