Just before this, the owner of the mill had decided on a walk to visit his property.  He was looking about inside, when unusual noises without attracted his attention.  Coming to a window in the upper story, he looked down on the scene below.  There, directly before his astonished eyes, floated a banner, on which these words were plainly visible: 

    “Freedom we shout!  Freedom for all! 
        Freedom forever and aye! 
    We will not yield till all chains fall,
        And tyrants are banished or die!”

He saw, too, that the boys were working hard to fasten the staff securely in its place.

“Hm, hm, so, so!” he murmured; “that’s to be planted on my land!  We’ll see about that.”

He stood still at his post of observation, and watched the farther proceedings.  When the staff was firmly fixed so that it was not swayed by the blowing of the banner above, it was carefully drawn out, the stones were buried in the hole and neatly covered with sod.  The preparations for the Festival were now all made, and to-morrow the banner could be easily set in place, and the celebration go on.

Oscar had long had a speech in readiness.  Now he cast one long delighted glance at the beautiful platform before the windmill, so suitable for a speaker.

“At six o’clock to-morrow evening, not before; the others could not get away before,” he said to his friends.  “The meeting-place is behind Rosemount, by the three oaks.  From there we shall march to music.”

Then the four boys went down the hill, and at the main road they separated, promising to meet at the appointed time and place to-morrow.

Early in the morning of this same day, Emma had begun in her busy brain a new set of schemes.  On the trip the day before, she had seen something which had excited her inventive powers in the highest degree.  At the table at noon a keen observer would have suspected that something was in the wind, from the unseemly haste with which the little girl devoured her food.  She was too busy with her project to remember her manners!  When they arose from the table, and Mrs. Stanhope, with her never-forgotten politeness, dismissed them with “many wishes for an agreeable afternoon,” Emma slipped lightly down the stairs, like a little weasel, and into the kitchen.  The fat cook looked up with surprise from her cup of coffee; she could not get along without her coffee at noon, whatever happened.

“Well, now, has anything gone wrong with you, miss?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” answered Emma; “but I have a little favor to ask of you.  Drink your coffee, first; do.”

“I’ve finished.  What do you want?” asked the cook, slowly rising from her chair.

“My shoes are very dusty; will you please wipe them for me?” asked Emma, as politely as if she could not speak in any other way.

“It’s hardly worth while,” answered the woman, but she lifted Emma’s foot upon a cricket, and began to rub it.