“Sure thing, Uncle Ben! We don’t want a ready-made house with fine furniture and things, when we have a dandy camp right at hand where a fellow can rough it for a few days!” added Don, and he felt very impressive with the manner in which he said “rough it.”
The Little Citizens were expecting their young benefactors, and the whole camp was as spick and span as a Street Cleaning Department could make it; and every child was polished till it shone, thanks to the Mother’s Helpers; and the Police Force was uniformed and waiting at cross paths of the camp ready to salute the group of Blue Birds and Bobolinks the moment they passed the City Line. Only the Fire Department was invisible, but they were waiting impatiently at the Fire House for the signal that would bring them out in a glorious show.
For be it known, my friends, that the Police Force, the Street Cleaning Department, and the Fire Company, had planned a secret all unknown to Uncle Ben, or any Little Citizen—at least a non-official citizen—that meant the girls, as every boy in camp belonged to some Civic Department or other and wore its uniform.
The secret was so well guarded that not even I had a peep of it, but it was dreadfully exciting as one could tell by the flushed faces and meaning signals that passed between the important branches of the Camp Government.
“Dere dey come—jus’ leavin’ de house!” called Jimmy, who was perched up on an electric light pole to spy.
“Which way are dey takin’—Primrose Walk or Daffodil Lane?” asked an eager voice from the crowd.
“Comin’ straight down Daffodil Lane—gee! dem boys what calls demselves Bobolinks are swells all right!” said Jimmy, as he slid quickly down the pole and joined his comrades.
“How many of ’em?” asked a boy.
“’Bout six er eight—big and little.”
“How little?” came from several small boys.