on the next day will wrote another letter to his cousin, in which he invited him to come and pay them a visit. he gave a rambling explanation of the “essay,”—which, he thought, would not only puzzle, but also astound, poor henry—and avoided mentioning his school-fellows at all. in fact, he had resolved in his mind that hereafter, in writing letters, he would confine himself to the matter in hand, and not discourse on the virtues and vices, the wisdom and folly, of his school-fellows. as for the plot, he said simply that they had “a game on foot,” filling up his letter by giving an interesting record of the weather for the past month, and a touching account of a lump on his horse’s hind leg.

will posted his letter with a light heart, feeling that his presentiments must have related to the exchanged composition, and that now all would be well.

in the eloquent words of sundry novelists: “it was well for him that he could not look into the future.”

the holidays had now begun, and, as was said above, the plotters spent a great part of their time in fitting up the deserted house, which was to be the scene of their comedy—or tragedy, as the event should prove.

having done this, the plotters, jim included, again assembled in solemn council, to deliberate on certain features of their plot. they wished to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with all the details, so that everything should work smoothly.

“now, when henry comes,” said will, “we must meet him at the station, and keep him out of marmaduke’s sight till he sees him in the ‘wigwam’ as the captive. marmaduke will be all unprepared, and will take him for the captive without a doubt.”

“yes,” charles assented; “but will henry consent to be rigged out as a french captive?”

“oh, he will have to do that,” said will; “he will have to do whatever we tell him; and we shall have to do[283] whatever he tells us. oh, we shall work together just like a—a—like a—”

“like the works of a clock,” suggested steve, never at a loss for a simile, however inapt it might be.

“well,” charles observed, “let us make a being of straw, or old clothes, to look like a discomfited tramp in effigy, and then hang him out of a window up-stairs. marmaduke will take it for the persecuting captor, of course. and besides, we shall want something to do while henry and marmaduke are rescuing each other. this is your idea, steve,” he added, “and i give you all the credit for it.”

all the plotters were in favor of doing this, and so that question was settled.

jim—who bore the plotters a grudge for not having acquainted him with their designs till forced to do so—was suddenly struck with a peculiarly “bright” idea. he said nothing to them, but chuckling grimly to himself, he muttered fiendishly: “it would serve ’em right, i guess, anyway!”

stephen was suddenly struck with a horrible fear; he gasped faintly: “boys!—say, boys! oh, dear! boys, won’t the french young lady be supposed to speak in her own language? and how could marmaduke understand that?—that is, if henry could speak it right along?”

the plotters were appalled. with consternation in every face, they stared at each other in utter hopelessness, whilst their beloved plot tottered on its foundations.

but presently the sage, with his customary philosophy, came to the rescue. said he: “look here, boys, all that is necessary is to have the captor and the wicked jailers teach the beautiful captive to speak english, broken english, a little. alas, it seems to me that this captive will be an endless trouble to us, and i think henry will wish himself himself again. yes, i shall be glad when its all over.”

“never mind;” said stephen. “now, this broken english will settle that question; but, will, can henry speak broken—i mean cracked—english?”

“of course he can,” said will confidently; “he can do anything.”

[284]

the self-styled conspirators breathed freely, for their plot was now established on a firm foundation.

the work of fashioning a “being” progressed rapidly; and the day before henry arrived they put the finishing touches to an object that was a monstrosity indeed. if the curious reader wishes to know what this object, or “being,” or monstrosity, looked like, let him turn to the picture of the fourth giant in his baby brother’s “handsomely illustrated” “jack the giant-killer.” the resemblance between that giant and this “being” is striking.

yes; they had hit upon their vocation at last; and if they should remove to the haunts of savages in the polynesian islands, or in the unexplored regions of africa, and set up in business as idol-makers, their fame and fortune would soon be an accomplished fact.

but this story drags already; so let it be sufficient to add that the “impostor,” as they fondly called it, was lovingly and secretly conveyed to the lone house, and hidden away till it should be needed.

thus time passed with the plotters. they often had great difficulty in keeping all their movements and plans a secret from marmaduke; more than once he came upon them in their journeys to and fro, and it was only by using the greatest tact that they prevented him from following them to the old building.

poor marmaduke! he was at a loss to know why the boys should act in so strange a manner. he would come upon them sometimes, seated, and talking earnestly; but the moment they caught sight of him, all were silent. at last he began to think that he had offended them in some way—how, he could not guess. however, the time when he should be rudely awakened was at hand.

henry mortimer, the boy-lover of the sweet little blue-eyed heroine, was somewhat surprised to receive through the post a very learned dissertation on “philosophical ingenuity;” but two days afterwards will’s letter of explanation and invitation followed it, and then he was all eagerness to be off, as he anticipated having a delightful visit with his cousin and his aunt. but there were other[285] reasons why he was glad to go away from home for a few days, or even weeks. his school, also, had closed for the holidays; and consequently, he saw but little of—(it must be tiresome to the reader to see the writer of this history continually using circumlocution in speaking of this little girl, but as there are private reasons why her name should not be made known, he [the helpless reader] will have to make the best of it.) moreover, a handsome and clever youth, a first cousin of the little blue-eyed heroine’s, was spending the holidays at her parents’, with her elder brother; and henry’s feverish imagination (poor boy, he was jealous as ever) immediately conjectured that he and she would fall in love with each other! to be sure they were first cousins; but henry had latterly taken to the bad habit of reading english novels, and so he let his fears get the better of his judgment, and thought it only logical that she should eventually shake him off, and marry the cousin. as if to confirm his fears, he had seen her, the heroine who had given him the glass ink-bottle, walking down the side-walk, accompanied by the stalwart cousin. this had worked his jealous passions up to boiling heat, but feeling his utter helplessness, he had affected to be unconcerned; and now, to prove how little he cared, he would go away on a visit, and stay—well, perhaps he might stay two weeks.

preparations were immediately begun, but it was hard for mr. and mrs. mortimer to part with their son, if for only a short time. the “game on foot” hinted at in the letter troubled the latter—the more so, as she was aware of her son’s recklessness, and was firmly persuaded that her young nephew was totally devoid of common sense. but, at last, when the holidays were a week old, the redoubtable hero departed, with repeated warnings to keep out of danger, and to be very, very careful of himself, ringing in his ears.

the same day will was delighted in two different ways. he received a telegram, directed to himself. delight number one.

the telegram ran as follows:—

“your cousin henry will be there to-morrow morning; meet him.

“m. mortimer.”

[286]

delight number two.

will hastened to inform his fellow-plotters of this good news, and joy reigned among them all.

the next morning came, and with it came cousin henry. each one of the heroes, except marmaduke, was at the depot to welcome him; each one was struck with his commanding appearance; each one thought what a beautiful heroine he would make. proudly, but very awkwardly, will introduced them to each other, and then proposed to his cousin that he should bind a handkerchief loosely over his head, so that it should partially conceal his features.

“what for?” asked henry, with surprise. “i haven’t the tooth-ache, nor i’m not ashamed to be seen.”

“yes, but there’s a boy here not in our plot; and if he should happen to see you, all would be spoiled,” will pleaded.

“we might meet him, any minute, henry, for he’s always prowling round at this time of day,” stephen chimed in.

stephen and henry looked each other full in the face: congenial spirits met.

“well,” said henry resignedly, “go ahead, and trick me out as you please.” then, a woe-begone look overspreading his face, he added: “there is no one here to know me, so that it makes no difference how i am trussed up.”

ah! his heart was with the loved ones at home, and he cared little what these boys did with him.

but “tricked out” and “trussed up!” those words took well with the simple village boys; they held their breath for admiration.

then the cleanest handkerchief (which was henry’s own) that could be found, was bound about his head, so as to flap over his mouth unpleasantly, and wanton in the sultry july breeze.

needless precaution, for nothing was seen of marmaduke.

weary as henry must have been after his long journey, he was hurried away to one of the boys’ retreats, in a[287] retired quarter of mr lawrence’s garden. at first the boys were quite reserved, for henry had been represented to them as a very extraordinary personage; but in the course of half an hour they became as well acquainted with him as if they had known him from the days of the plesiosaurus dolichodeirus.

for a full hour they talked almost at random; narrating their late adventures with bob, touching gingerly upon will’s last lamentable blunder, and giving a minute, but bewildering and disjointed, account of their darling scheme.

then, after henry had received confused notions of various matters, the party dispersed; and the poor boy was allowed to see his aunt and uncle, wash, partake of some food, and snatch a wink of sleep.

they had appointed to meet early in the afternoon, to discuss their plot in all its bearings, and to have henry compose the vexatious letter; but he and will spent a short but very pleasant time in each other’s company, and when the hour came for them to repair to the rendezvous, the former had grasped the boys’ idea, and mapped out his own course.

to say that henry was delighted with this plot, would be to do him gross injustice—in fact, to speak out boldly, since yesterday the writer has racked his brains in a vain endeavor to hit upon some single adjective that would adequately describe the boy’s ecstasy.