own; he hoped by farther argument to bring her
over to his side.

"Now, aunty," he said, when the door was safely locked, "we must settle
this about the motto. I will repeat them all three over again, and you
really must choose. First I'll say the one you like best:--

"'Drums beat and banners fly
Our Festival to grace;
Long live all men, we cry;
But guests we forward place.'

"Now that's a good motto, aunty, but you see I can't pack the drum, and
so it won't suit very well to say 'drums beat,'--will it?"

"There must be plenty of drums there, and perhaps Fani has one," said
his aunt. "And I'm sure the motto is a very good one. However, let me
hear the second. I've forgotten just how it goes."

"'Come to our Festival! come all!
Come from Switzerland!
Conductor, let your tickets fall!
And, fireman, stay your hand!
You who make boots, or who brew beer,
You one and all are welcome here.'

"Don't you think that is, after all, better than the other, aunty?"

"Yes, it is certainly very good, but it is too long. It would take
Elsli such a time to embroider it."

"That settles it, then," said Oscar, well pleased that his aunt found a
decisive reason for rejecting another. "Now, then, for the last, short
and energetic:--

"'Freedom we shout! Freedom for all!
Freedom for ever and aye!
We will not yield till all chains fall,
And tyrants are banished or die!'

"Do you hear that, aunty?"

"Yes, my dear, I can't help hearing it, and it's very spirited, but it
doesn't mean anything. I don't know of any 'tyrants' that need to be
banished or die, do you? It isn't to be thought of. Take the first, or,
if you don't like that, choose another from the list."

But Oscar was obstinate. The first he wouldn't have, and he must somehow
or other bring his aunt over to accept this one.

"But, aunty," he began in a tone of remonstrance, "there were tyrants
once; don't you remember the poem about Dionysius, the tyrant? And if
there have been once, there may be again, and then this verse would be
splendid; don't you think so?"

Before aunty could respond to this appeal, came a fearful pounding at
the door, which put a stop to the discussion. Fred and Emma, having
hunted over the rest of the house in vain, had at last bethought
themselves of this apartment; and, finding the door locked, they felt
sure that the objects of their search were within.

Emma called t