Well, the boys loved her. There was now a rush for the barn. When they had all safely arrived in the chamber, Charlie suddenly and soberly exclaimed, “There!”

“What’s the matter?” inquired Sid. “You look pale. Has any one put his sword—I mean his shield into—I mean on you?”

Charlie did not feel like joking. A dark thought had overshadowed him and changed a peaceful to a threatening sky.

“What is it?” asked Gov. Grimes.

“I did not,” replied Charlie, “ask Aunt Stanshy if we might have the barn!”

That was an omission indeed, and the club appreciated it, as “Aunt Stanshy” was well known by the boys. All the sunshine seemed to disappear suddenly and a cloud was on every thing.

Aunt Stanshy’s name in full was Constantia, but, like the crown-jewels of England, it was only used on very important occasions. The house and barn both belonged to Aunt Stanshy, property that had been willed her by her father, Solomon Macomber, whose body slept under the wings of a blue-stone cherub in the cemetery. Her nephew, Charles, on the death of his wife, came to live with Aunt Stanshy, bringing his infant heir. When the father died, little Charlie was left in Aunt Stanshy’s care. She was a tall, resolute woman, so tall that Simes Badger told Charlie that when he wanted to put colors on a flag-staff, he needn’t go out of the house. That made Charlie mad. Aunt Stanshy had sharp, black eyes, and spectacles made them look all the sharper. As Charlie said, “Aunt Stanshy’s eyes sometimes look as if they had snappin’ crackers in ’em.” Aunt Stanshy was really kind at heart and really loved Charlie, and he had all the comforts of home; but she would sometimes speak quick, and she was always sure to “speak her mind,” be the rate of speech slow or quick. Simes Badger was a retired old salt and kept the light-house; not that scanty funds compelled him, but mostly because he must do something about the sea to keep him at all contented. Simes once remarked, “I’ll allow that Stanshy is a leetle tart at times, and I’ve knowed her since she was a gal. But then if you take a good sour apple and stew it and sugar it, it makes a first-class apple-pie. Howsomever, it must be well stewed and well sugared.” The boys now trembled lest this vigorous, resolute soul might not favor their plans, and denying it a place of meeting might end the days of the infant club.

“There,” said Sid, mournfully, “we’ve made a club, but we’ve got no place to stick it in! How would it do to make Aunt Stanshy an honorary member of the club?”

The faces of all brightened at this happy thought.

“And not athk her to pay a thent a month, but ektheuth her,” suggested Pip, who had a lisping style of speech.

This was another happy thought and acceptable to the club.

“I’ll go and ask her,” said Charlie. As he went down stairs, the members of the club gathered around the open window, anxiously looking out and awaiting the return of their embassador to her majesty in the kitchen, Constantia the first. Aunt Stanshy was washing clothes when Charlie entered. With a drooping head and faltering tongue he told about the club and asked for the barn, having announced her honorary membership, and also the remission of the monthly due. Aunt Stanshy had a streak of fun in her nature and a big one. When she looked out into the yard, and glancing up saw the seven sober, anxious faces at the barn window, she laughed and said, “Well, Charlie, have I got to lug a big, heavy white shield around?”

“O it’s a beautiful one of pasteboard and silk.”

“Well, well, say yes.”

When he had gone, Aunt Stanshy took her hands out of the suds, sat down in a flag-bottomed chair by the store, and laughed till her sides ached. She was washing again when the granny of the “Sentinel” came in to help her. Granny took the flag-bottomed chair and asked, “What’s de news, Stanshy?”

Aunt Stanshy burst out laughing, and the big ribbon-ends of her cap fluttered like a pennant at the mast-head.

“Why, I’m an honorary member and sha’n’t have to pay a cent; ha, ha, ha!”

“A what?”

But Aunt Stanshy made no explanation. She only pounded her clothes and roared, so tickled was she. Subsiding, she soon broke out again.

“Why, chile, what’s de matter?” asked granny. “You done gone crazy and sure for’t.”

“I’m an honorary member, and have got to wear a silk shield, I tell you.”

Granny went home, shaking her head and saying, “I do b’lieve she’s losin’ her mind sure, and dat am mournfu’ in one so young an’ lubly.”

Chapter II.

The Grand March.

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“Please, aunty, lend me your wash-stick.”

As he spoke Charlie was all excitement, running eagerly from the barn into the house. Obtaining the coveted treasure, he as eagerly ran back. Two minutes passed.

“May I have the curtain-stick up in your chamber that you don’t want?”

“How do you know I don’t want it?”

“‘Cause it’s doing nothing, standing up in the corner.”

“O what eyes! Yes, you may have it.”

Three minutes went.

“Aunty, couldn’t I have the broom-handle out in the entry? Some of the boys knew you wouldn’t let me, but I said you would. I knew you would let a feller take it,” said the ingenious Charlie.

“For pity’s sake, Charles Pitt Macomber, what next?”

This was Charlie’s real name and used for greater impressiveness.

“That broom-handle is what I fasten the back window with, and if any bugglars get in tonight, I must blame you.”

However, Charlie carried his point. In a few minutes he appeared again, and pointed at his shoulder.

“Aunty, see here!”

“Why, Charles Pitt, what have you done to your shoulder?”

Charlie grinned. There, on the left shoulder, was a chalk shield. “Teacher, of course, must have time to make our silk shields, and so we got up these.”

Aunt Stanshy’s eyes let out some funny, bright sparks.

“O, no, it’s only the grand march.”

“The grand march!”

“Yes, and see here, aunty. I have only this chalk shield, and you don’t want your boy to go that way. Please let me take that old sword above the sitting-room mantel-piece,” pleaded Charlie, with beseeching eyes.

“Grandsir’s sword? O that wont do. Why, that sword was at the battles of Quebec and Banker Hill and Waterloo and—”

Constantia! In her loyalty to grandsir’s memory, she was unconsciously mentioning places he had never been in! All this array of names only fired Charlie’s ardor. At last Aunt Stanshy said, “There, take it! The next thing, I spose, you’ll want me.”

“We may; but you’d have to dress up in man’s clothes, you know.”

“Never!” said Aunt Stanshy, firmly. “Don’t go out of the lane with grandsir’s sword!”

“We’ll be along soon.”

“How will I know it? I may be up stairs.”

“We will give three cheers under the window.”

There was an increasing commotion in the barn chamber.

“Now, fellers!” exclaimed Sid Waters. “You won’t be ready for the grand march.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” they shouted back.

“Is the chariot ready for the president?” inquired Sid.

“Yes,” said Charlie, who purposed to furnish his go-cart for the occasion. “It’s down in the yard.”

“I have the first ride, you know.”

“And I the second,” said the governor.

“Yes, but the governor must go behind while the president rides.”

Rick’s heart sank within him, but all had promised to obey orders and there was no appeal.