“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 of 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.”