In this dilemma he began to turn over her childish proposal that she should go with him disguised as a boy. He felt almost sure that he should be allowed to bring a young lad into the garrison for a few days. Within those few days he hoped to find means to send Merrylips on to Walsover, before any one could discover that she was no boy, but a little girl. He knew that this was a risky undertaking, and he knew that the burden of it would fall upon the child, but he thought that he could trust her. He noted how straight and vigorous was her slim young figure, how brown and healthy her color, how brave her carriage. She had always been a boyish little girl, and in her boyishness he now placed his hope. From Merrylips Munn turned to that pallid and ill-favored Herbert, who was squirming in Stephen's grip. Suddenly all that in Munn which was still a schoolboy thought it a rare jest to put Herbert into petticoats, where he belonged, and set brave little Merrylips, for once, in the breeches that all her life she had longed to wear. So good a jest it was, that he thought, for the jest's sake, he might win forgiveness even from his captain, if he should be found out. Carried away by the fun of it, he turned to Merrylips, and his eyes were dancing. "Run thou behind yonder thick holly bush," he spoke the words that bound him to this plan. "Off with thy gown and fling it forth to me. Thou shalt speedily have other gear to replace it." Before he had done speaking, Merrylips was screened behind the holly bush, and with fingers that shook was casting off her bodice and her petticoat. As she did so, she heard an angry cry from Herbert. "I'll tell my mother! I'll tell my--" There the cry changed, and from the sounds that went with it she knew that at last Herbert was getting, from Stephen Plasket, the whipping that for months he had so sorely needed. A moment later a little ruddy brown bundle came tumbling over the holly bush, and Merrylips, in all haste, turned herself into a boy. She kept her own worsted stockings and stout country-made shoes. Over her own plain little smock she drew the ruddy brown breeches, which she gartered trimly at the knee, and the ruddy brown doublet, with the slashed sleeves and the pretty buttons of gilt. She unbound the lace that tied her hair and shook her flyaway mop about her face. Her hair was so curly that it had never grown long enough to fall below her shoulders, and that was a very fit length for a little Cavalier. She tied Herbert's white collar round her neck. Last of all she set Herbert's felt hat upon her head, and then she was ready. But she did not feel at all as she had thought she should feel. Instead of feeling bold and manly, she was suddenly afraid lest, in spite of the clothes, she should not be boy enough to please Munn. So great was her fear that she stood shrinking behind the holly bush till she heard Munn call, a little impatiently. Then she crept out, with her head hanging.