"Have it in my room," said Tom, hospitably, "and keep dark about it."
That seemed feasible; for his out-of-the-way room in the top story had often been the scene of their revels.
"But the cooking?"
"I will make a fire in the fire-place. I have often done a little in the cooking line there; made bullets, and boiled paste, you know."
It was then arranged that the Flemings, being hosts, should provide fuel, lights, and utensils; and the Stanleys, who were posted in pastry, should provide materials for the cake.
"All right," said Tom. "We will do our share. But if we engage to get the milk and eggs, don't you think you fellows might scare up the flour and molasses?"
The Stanleys thought they could; and the time was set for the next night but one, to allow ample time for preparation.
"I tell you what, Dick," said Bob, suddenly sitting up in bed that night, "if I could only get a chance to speak to the milkman, I could order an extra lot of milk."
"Well, get up in time to take the milk to-morrow. It won't be any colder than sitting up in bed now, and there is no use in cooling us both off."
It seemed an important though painful step to take, so it was determined on. But, alas! the morning the milk was to be delivered, the boys both overslept the hour. Some one else took the milk, and refused to take the double quantity.