"O what eyes! Yes, you may have it."

Three minutes went.

"Aunty, couldn't I have the broom-handle out in the entry? Some of the
boys knew you wouldn't let me, but I said you would. I knew you would let
a feller take it," said the ingenious Charlie.

"For pity's sake, Charles Pitt Macomber, what next?"

This was Charlie's real name and used for greater impressiveness.

"That broom-handle is what I fasten the back window with, and if any
bugglars get in tonight, I must blame you."

However, Charlie carried his point. In a few minutes he appeared again,
and pointed at his shoulder.

"Aunty, see here!"

"Why, Charles Pitt, what have you done to your shoulder?"

Charlie grinned. There, on the left shoulder, was a chalk shield.
"Teacher, of course, must have time to make our silk shields, and so we
got up these."

Aunt Stanshy's eyes let out some funny, bright sparks.

"O, no, it's only the grand march."