Midget put on a fresh white pique, and tied up her mop of curls with wide bows of red, white, and blue ribbon.

When all ready she went dancing downstairs, pausing on her way to tap at King’s door.

“All ready, Kinksie?” she called out.

“In a minute, Mops.  Wait for me!”

Midget sat down on the staircase window-seat, and in a moment King joined her there.

“Hello, Mopsy-Doodle!  Merry Fourth of Ju—­New Year’s!”

“Hello, yourself!  Oh, King, isn’t it a gorgeous day?  What shall we do first?”

“I dunno!  We can’t shoot things or make much noise, until Father and Mother get up.  It would be mean to wake them.”

“Oh, pshaw! they can’t be asleep through all this racket that is going on.  Hear the shooting all around.”

“Well, we’ll see.  Let’s get outdoors, anyhow.”

The children opened the front door, and there, sitting on the veranda steps, his head leaning against a pillar, sat Cousin Jack, apparently sound asleep.

“Will you look at that!” said King, in a whisper.  “Has he been here all night, do you s’pose?”

“No, ’course not.  But I s’pose he’s been here some time.  Do you think he’s really asleep?”

“He looks so.  What shall we do with him?”

“Dress him up,” commanded Marjorie, promptly, and pulling off her wide hair-ribbons, she proceeded to tie one around Cousin Jack’s neck, and one around his head, giving that gentleman a very festive appearance.

After she had arranged the bows to her satisfaction, Cousin Jack obligingly woke up,—­though, as a matter of fact, he hadn’t been to sleep!

“Why, if here isn’t Mehitabel!” he exclaimed; “and Hezekiah, too!  What a surprise!”

“How do you like your decorations?” asked Marjorie, surveying him with admiration.

“Oh, are these ribbons real?  I thought I was dreaming, and had a Fourth of July nightmare.”

“How long have you been here, Cousin Jack?” asked King.

“Well, I was waking, so I called early; I don’t know at what hour, but I’ve been long enough alone, so I’m glad you two young patriots came down to help me celebrate.  Polly want a firecracker?” He held out a pack of small ones to Marjorie, but she declined them.

“No, thank you; give those to King.  I’d rather have torpedoes.”

“All right, my girlie, here you are!  And here’s a cap to replace the ribbons you so kindly gave me.”

Cousin Jack drew from his pocket a tissue-paper cap, that had evidently come in a snapping-cracker.  Then he produced another one for King, and one which he laid aside for Rosy Posy.  They were gay red, white, and blue caps, with cockades and streamers.

“Now, we’ll be a procession,” he went on.  From a nook on the veranda, where he had hidden them, he produced a drum, a tambourine, and a cornet.

The cornet was his own, and he presented the drum to King, and the tambourine to Marjorie.