re, I guess. She only needs an engine
behind her t' make the thing complete."

Flying through the yard, Aunt Stanshy rushed up the barn chamber stairs.
Passing the "sentinel" with the powerful aid of a cent, she looked around
upon the chamber. In its center there was a stout wooden post, and between
this post and a closet, at one end of the chamber, there had been
suspended a dirty, ragged sheet, which the governor's aunt had taken from
the attic and given to the club. Across this sheet stretched a panoramic
strip of paper which Aunt Stanshy at once recognized as Charlie's
handiwork. It took two boys, Sid and Wort, to stand at the two ends of the
curtain and manage the "pammerrammer." As Sid unrolled the glorious
succession of artistic beauties that Charlie had sketched, Wort at the
other end pulled them along and rolled them up. In front of the curtain
was ranged a plank. A carpenter's bench that bordered a wall of the barn
supported one end of the plank, and a barrel the other end. This elevated
roost was denominated "reserved seats," and all cent admissions secured
"one of the most eligible chances in the Hall," so Sid declared. There was
a string of sweet little beauties on the bench, girls from the
neighborhood, and among them was little May Waters, her face one of
wonderful vivacity, a kind of panorama in itself, where the most varied
emotions chased one another in rapid succession. Aunt Stanshy found a sled
to sit on, and the performance began. Gov. Grimes wished to try his hand
first at explaining the pictures. He began, grandiloquently,

"This--this--is a building, no, Faneuil Hall. The next is a picture of a
ship. That is a--"

"Don't roll her so tight, Wort," whispered a voice behind the curtain.

"Monkey!" said the governor, finishing his sentence, but unfortunately
chancing to look toward that sensitive soul, Pip Peckham.

"I aint," said Pip.

"Who said you was?" inquired Wort.

"You!" charged Pip, turning to the governor.

"I didn't."

"You looked at me."

"Silence in the audience!" shrieked Sid to the now jolly spectators.

"You've got your end all twisted up, Wort," said the governor.

"O dear!" groaned the president.

The straightening out of the last difficulty was effected after a while,
and Gov. Grimes began again: "Here are some big, black dogs in a
melon-patch."

"Bears, bears!" eagerly whispered Charlie, alarmed for the reputation of a
club that could not tell the difference betwe