"My—my mother—she wants to—to know can Sube come over to my house—for supper to-night—and she wants to know can he stay all night with me to-night till eleven o'clock—and then she'll call us and wake us up so's my uncle Bert he can come and get us and take us to see the bonfire—he likes bonfires, he likes every kind of fires, he always goes to fires in the night, he's gone to fires ever since the Germans set fire to the Declaration-ofinna-pen'ance—"
Gizzard's finish was not unlike the explosion of a cannon-cracker after the proper amount of sizzling at the fuse.
"What is it you are saying, Charley?" gasped Mrs. Cane.
Gizzard turned hopelessly to his co-petitioner. "You tell 'er, Sube."
"I'm invited to his house for supper and to stay all night," Sube interpreted calmly.
"But what about the Germans setting fire to the Declaration of Independence?"
"You didn't understand him, he talked so fast. His uncle Bert's dead stuck on bonfires—"
"Dead stuck?"
"He likes 'em," Sube corrected, "and he wants us to go to bed early, and then he'll call us a little before midnight, and take us up to see the bonfire for a little while, and then take us back home again."
"That isn't a good place for boys," ruled Mrs. Cane dubiously. "There's a very rough element at those bonfires. What does your mother think about it, Charley? Is she going to—"