picking up the various treasures which had flown out of his
pockets as he caught up his roundabout.
“Ready! I’ll trouble you for a cent, sonny”; and Frank held out his
hand as he appeared equipped for the day.
“You haven’t hung up your night-gown, nor aired the bed, nor
opened the windows. That’s part of the dressing; mother said so.
I’ve got you there, for you did all that for me, except this,” and Jack
threw his gown over a chair with a triumphant flourish as Frank
turned back to leave his room in the order which they had been
taught was one of the signs of a good bringing-up in boys as well
as girls.
“Ready! I’ll trouble you for a cent, old man”; and Jack held out his
hand, with a chuckle.
He got the money and a good clap beside; then they retired to the
shed to black their boots, after which Frank filled the woodboxes
and Jack split kindlings, till the daily allowance was ready. Both
went at their lessons for half an hour, Jack scowling over his
algebra in the sofa corner, while Frank, with his elbows on and his
legs round the little stand which held his books, seemed to be
having a wrestling-match with Herodotus.
When the bell rang they were glad to drop the lessons and fall
upon their breakfast with the appetite of wolves, especially Jack,
who sequestered oatmeal and milk with such rapidity that one
would have thought he had a leathern bag hidden somewhere to
slip it into, like his famous namesake when he breakfasted with the
giant.
“I declare I don’t see what he does with it! He really ought not to
‘gobble’ so, mother,” said Frank, who was eating with great
deliberation and propriety.
“Never you mind, old quiddle. I’m so hungry I could tuck away a
bushel,” answered Jack, emptying a glass of milk and holding out
his plate for more mush, regardless of his white moustache.
“Temperance in all things is wise, in speech as well as eating and
drinking–remember that, boys,” said Mamma from behind the urn.
“That reminds me! We promised to do the ‘Observer’ this week,
and here it is Tuesday and I haven’t done a thing: have you?” asked
Frank.
“Never thought of it. We must look up some bits at noon instead 0f
playing. Dare say Jill has got some: she always saves all she finds
for me.”
“I have one or two good items, and can do any copying there may
be. But I think if you undertake the paper you should give some
time and labor to make it good,” said Mamma, who was used to
this state of affairs, and often edited the little sheet read every
week at the Lodge. The boys seldom missed going, but the busy
lady was often unable to be there, so helped with the paper as her
share of the labor.
“Yes, we ought, but somehow we don’t seem to get up much steam
about it lately. If more people belonged, and we could have a
grand time now and then, it would be jolly”; and Jack sighed
at the lack of interest felt by outsiders in the loyal little Lodge
which went on year after year kept up by the faithful few.
“I remember when in this very town we used to have a Cold Water
Army, and in the summer turn out with processions, banners, and
bands of music to march about, and end with a picnic, songs, and
speeches in some grove or hall. Nearly all the children belonged to
it, and the parents also, and we had fine times here twenty-five or
thirty years ago.”
“It didn’t do much good, seems to me, for people still drink, and
we haven’t a decent hotel in the place,” said Frank, as his mother
sat looking out of the window as if she saw again the pleasant sight
of old and young working together against the great enemy of
home peace and safety.
“Oh yes, it did, my dear; for to this day many of those children are
true to their pledge. One little girl was, I am sure, and now has two