response to the second, said, quickly, "Yes, sir."

Charlie was the only one among "my men" willing to "rally." But the
governor was not discouraged. He was resolute, even at times to
stubbornness.

He waved his clothes-stick and shrieked, "Come on! I defy you!"

Charlie also looked defiant; but he was so intent on facing the enemy that
he did not pay proper attention to his armor, and the sword that had been
so loyal to grandsir now turned into a rebel to Charlie. It did what
swords will sometimes do; it insisted on mixing up with his chubby legs as
he changed his position, and over he went! Rick had grappled the enemy,
but it was a hopeless struggle, and things looked ominous for that
fragment of the club now in the battle.

Suddenly a sharp, penetrating, commanding voice was heard. "Don't you
touch 'em, you rascals," and a tall, resolute figure rose above the
prostrate Charlie, flourishing a broom. It was Aunt Stanshy, who, from her
window, had watched the boys, and, seeing the approach of that down-town
thunder-cloud, rushed out to meet the storm. Her prowess was witnessed by
Simes Badger, who, as a leading village gossip, was loafing away an hour
of leisure in a flag-bottomed chair before Silas Trefethen's grocery. He
told the story to all the village gossips of the masculine sex who
gathered at the grocery as soon as they had swallowed their tea and had
done as few chores at home as possible.

"Well!" said Simes, laughing.

He was a gaunt, long-drawn-out man, owning a straggling, gray beard, a