"'Cause the board of trustees won't let us ring the firebell, and all the churches have put their solid-ivories together and agreed not to let their bells be rung! That's why not!" "Aw, come off!" sneered Sube. "I guess I know what's in the paper! Don't you read the _Citizen_?" "Now what do you know about that!" exclaimed Sube disgustedly. "Ain't that a nice way to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth!" "I call it _rotten_!" replied Gizzard feelingly; but it is safe to say that his feelings were aroused more by Sube's continued repetition of his new phrase, than disappointment over the modified form of welcome to the festal day prescribed by certain unpatriotic grown-ups who seemed to have forgotten that they once were young. The neither-here-nor-there expression still rankled in Gizzard's memory, and now Sube was adding vinegar to the wound. But Gizzard realized the importance of keeping his feelings to himself. He knew that greater misery would be his lot if Sube ever found out how he felt about it. "Rotten's no name for it," agreed Sube, scowling. "I guess those ol' guys have forgot how we signed that Declaration of Independence from Germany--" "Germany!" howled Gizzard derisively. "You said Germany! Why, it wasn't Germany at all! It was _France_!" "France nothin'! I tell you it was Germany!" "Look here! They was red-coats, now wasn't they?" "Yes, but the France soldiers wear red _pants_! Don't you know the diff between pants and coats! Ha-ha! Can't tell the diff between pants and coats!" "Can, too! Can, too! Can, too! C-a-n,--t-o-o!" bawled Gizzard. "And, anyhow, I knew more'n you did about ringin' the bells! You didn't know nuthin' about it till I told you!" "Yes, but I know a pair of pants from a--" Sube stopped short as an idea came to him. "Say!" he began eagerly, "what's to hinder our sneakin' up in the Prespaterian steeple and ringin' their ol' bell for em!" Gizzard shook his head. "Nothin' doin'," he replied promptly. "The paper says there's goin' to be a watchman at every church in town." Sube's face relapsed into a scowl. "Did it say who?" he asked half-heartedly. "Jus' the sextant." A look of great joy broke over Sube's countenance. "Ol' Hank Morley!" he cried. "Why, he's blind in one eye and can't hardly see out of the other! And he's so feeble he couldn't catch a louse!" "But how could we get in?" asked Gizzard dubiously. Sube glanced about for eavesdroppers as he whispered softly, "Cellar window! They been puttin' in coal for next winter and they've left the window out." "Yes, but how could we--" "Sneak in this afternoon after the last load of coal goes in, and climb up in the ol' steeple and wait there till they touch off the bonfire, and then we'll give that ol' bell the most ever-glorious ringin' it ever got!"