“Don’t they have a governor in Massachusetts?” inquired Charlie, triumphantly.

“Well, ye—­ye—­yes.”

That settled it, for Massachusetts custom was plainly authority in this matter.

Rick Grimes was made governor.

“Treasurer now!” called out Sid.

“Charlie, would you like to be that?” he whispered.  Charlie was about to say “Yes,” when the fruit hanging before his thirsty lips was suddenly snatched away.

“I’d like that,” piped a voice.  It was Pip Peckham.

“Ahem!” said the president, “I think the office ought to be given to experience,” and here he looked in the direction of Charlie.

“Who’s he?” inquired Billy.  “Who’s Sperience?”

“Silence!” ordered the president.  “Little boys must speak only when they are spoken to.”

Billy pouted.

“Why couldn’t we have two treasuries?” inquired Gov.  Grimes, putting the thing for its keeper.  This happy solution of a difficult problem was at once accepted.  Charlie was named as the first official of this grade, and Pip as the second.

“We ought to have a keeper of the great seal,” said the president.

“What is that?” asked the inquisitive Billy.  The president was puzzled to say just what it did mean, “But,” he affirmed, “I think we ought to have it.  It is something, I know, and they put it on things.”

“I know what it is,” said Gov.  Grimes, eagerly.  “My uncle has two down on the wharf, in a tank, a great one and a little one, and I guess we could have the great one up here, and some one be keeper of it.”

The contempt of the president was undisguised.  “That isn’t it!  If I could only think, but there is so much noise!  Order, gentlemen!”

Whatever noise had been made, the president was the author of the most of it, though he did not seem to know it.

“Perhaps we’d better ’journ that,” said Gov.  Grimes.  “That’s what they do to things in meetings, when they want to put them off, my father says.”

“Well, we can do that, only I think we’d better have a—­”

“I will!” shouted Wort, fearful that he might lose his chance for an office, and eagerly assenting beforehand to any thing that was coming.

“You be janitor, and take care of the—­the—­hall?” said Sid, looking round on the barn-chamber.  “That’s what I meant.”

“Yes, yes!”

“There ought to be a sentinel,” said Sid; “one, you know, to look after the door and not let any down-townies up.  Will you, Juggie?”

“Yes,” replied that man of war, Jugurtha Bonaparte Jones.

“Billy’s got nothing,” said Juggie.

“So he hasn’t,” said Gov.  Grimes.  “We ought to have a secretary, to put up notices and soon.”

“Billy shall be that,” declared the president.  As Billy was backward in his studies and could not write, his office promised to be one of great honor and no duties.  Every body had been pat into office except one, shy, silent, little olive-face, Tony.  He was contented to be an unnoticed flower in the field.  Charlie was the first to detect it, and whispered to Sid, “Tony hasn’t got nothing.”