"You know mamma doesn't like to hear you say 'the mischief.'"

"Well, she didn't, 'cause she isn't here," returned Alan, in
nowise abashed by his reproof. "And I don't believe she'd like to
hear you girls planning to cut my head off, either."

"Oh, Alan, you goose!" said Polly. "John Smith's head wasn't cut
off, for Pocahontas saved him, you know. All you'll have to do
will be to lie down with your head on a stone, and have one of us
girls get ready to hit you with a club."

"If you girls are going to manage the club," remarked the boy,
with masculine scorn, "I'd much rather have you try to hit me, for
then I'd be safe."

"That's a very old joke, Alan," said Jean, with disgust; "and
besides, it isn't polite. You ought to be proud to be asked to
have a part in our grand play."

"Will you act, or won't you?" demanded Polly sternly, as she
seized him by his short, thick hair.

"Oh, anything to get peace," groaned Alan.

"Say yes, then."

"Yes."

"Very well. Now, you are to be ready whenever we want you; you are
to do just what we want, and do it in just the way we want. Do you