“Treasurer, Master Edward Preston.”
“Yes’m, I’m here,” responded Ted with a giggle, “but I don’t see what there is to treasure.”
“Secretary, Master Robert Atkinson,” continued Bess, regardless of the interruption.
“Here! What am I to do about it?” inquired Rob meekly.
“Chairman of Entertainment Committee, Master Philip Cameron.”
“Trust me for coming,” answered Phil, while Rob whispered,—
“That means you are chief clown.”
“Beadle-in-chief and Disciplinarian, Master Samuel Boeminghausen.”
“Yes, ma’am!” said Sam, and then fulfilled his official duties by frowning on Ted, who, mindful of his “Pickwick,” murmured,—
“‘Samivel, my son, bevare of vidders.’”
“Grand Referee, Critic, and Curator of Encyclopædia and Dictionary, Master Herbert Walsh,” concluded Bess, and Bert’s response was lost amid the shouts of the boys, to whom these offices were unexpected honors.
“Now,” said Bess, in more natural tones, as
