“But how in the world did you manage it, Bart? Where did you get them all?” asked Tom Crawford.
“O, I found the shirts down in Brown’s,” said Bart, “and picked out the smallest ones. I had them altered, and got Maggie Lunt to sew on the crosses. I begged some old ostrich feathers from. Mrs. Porter, and of course the hats could be got anywhere. They’re rather large, but we can put bits of paper inside the lining, you know, and make them fit well enough. They’ll do for the woods.”
“Do for the woods!” cried Bruce Rawdon. “I should think they would, and for other places, too. Boys, don’t let’s hide our light under a bushel. I move that we have a grand procession at once.”
“Yes, yes,” cried all. “Let’s go down now. The fellows are all out on the grounds.”
“How they’ll stare!” cried Phil. “The ‘B. O. W. C.’ will become more famous than ever,” said Tom Crawford.
“Come, then,” said Arthur, “let us go down now.”
“No,” said Bart. “That would spoil all.”
“Why, don’t you want the ‘B. O. W. C.’ to show themselves?”
“Of course, but not now. I’ll tell you what to do. Let’s wait till to-morrow, and then we’ll get Jiggins’s cart, and make Solomon drive, dressed as Venerable Warden, up to the woods. We’ll follow as brigands.”
“Hurrah! That’s splendid!” said Bruce Rawdon.