"For a cent."

"Then I'm an 'elder.'"

"Yes, aunty."

"Well, I'll engage a seat."

"Goody! That will be two cents. We did think of breaking up the club, but this will cheer them up. Wouldn't it be too bad to give up? Our new silk badges that our teacher promised, we have this week."

"The shields?"

"Yes, spick and span new."

"I hope my two cents will encourage them to be good knights."

"O it will. You will be on hand this afternoon, after school?"

"Certainly."

After school, Aunt Stanshy was on hand promptly, and she judged by the noises issuing from the barn that all the others were on hand also. She climbed the, stairs and was about stepping into the chamber, when Pip, the a.s.sistant sentinel, came forward. He looked very formidable. A scarlet cap was on his head, a white belt tied round his body, and red flannel epaulets decorated his shoulders. He bore a terrible broom, and Aunt Stanshy recalled the fact that it had served as mast for the _Neponset_.

"Who goeth there?" cried the valorous Pip.

"Aunt Stanshy," said a feeble voice.

"Advanth and give the counterthign?"

"I can't."

Pip leveled his broom at once. Poor Stanshy, how she wished she had made her will.

"Bang!" he shouted.

Could she survive this?

"Thay pertatoeth!" he whispered.

"Pertatoes," she fortunately shrieked.

"All right," said Pip, and she was spared a second shot.

"I'm thankful to get through safe, and now I have not to pay, after all that risk?"

"Certainly, madam," politely replied Charlie, the treasurer, who now met her. "I'll take your ticket and punch it."

Having punched her ticket, he retired. Aunt Stanshy looked about the chamber. She noticed that an old thin sheet served for curtain, as before, and another was strung across a corner and separated it from the rest of the chamber. This second curtain not being long enough to reach the desired distance, was pieced out by a strip of wire netting in one corner.

Looking over this corner curtain, Aunt Stanshy saw eight pieces of carpeting on the floor, each member of the club having furnished a piece.

Inside this sanctuary were a barrel and a saw-horse.

"What is this for?" asked Aunt Stanshy.

"O for meetings," said Charlie. "Only the four princ.i.p.als can go in there."

"Who are they?"

"The president, the governor, the first treasury, and the keeper of the great seal. We stand on the barrel and saw-horse, and make laws to the other members of the club, who stand outside."

Aunt Stanshy now turned to inspect the other parts of the chamber.

"This is our whipping-post," said Charlie, calling attention to a post against which leaned the ladder that sloped up to the cupola.

"Have you whipped any one?"

"Yes; Pip deserted once."

Aunt Stanshy read three notices nailed to the post: "First, no cross words; no swearing and vulgar words; n.o.body but the treasurer to climb this ladder to go up into the cupola, unless the club say so."

This was in Charlie's handwriting.

"Why not go?" asked Aunt Stanshy.

"O we keep our funds up there in a dipper."

"It looks unsafe to me, for somebody climbing up there might reach into the cup and steal the money."

"O no, I guess not."

Sid Waters now stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "two more individuals having arrived"--these were nail patrons--"we will begin our entertainment. First is the dialogue called 'The Spy.'"

The curtain rose and there stood the inheritor of the warlike name of Jugurtha. He was rather sober and melancholy, and was dressed in a semi-military style that betrayed not in the least the fact to what flag he might possibly be attached. Sid was crouching down, hiding behind a barrel.

"What am I?" Juggie now asked in low tones, "American or British?"

"Of course," Sid was heard to say, "you are an American, or ought to be.

Hush up!"

Juggie now strode over the floor, an exiled broom-handle resting on his shoulder. Suddenly a step was heard. From the rear of a box crept out the governor. He wore a farmer's dress, and was half smothered under his father's tall hat.

"Advance!" shouted Juggie, "and gib de count--count--"

"Countersign!" whispered the prompter behind the barrel.

"Count-de-sign!" shouted Juggie, pompously, at the same time presenting the broom-handle threateningly.

"George Washington!" answered the farmer.

"All right. Go 'long dar!"