"We'll tell 'em our mothers are the committee, and that we're takin' the things to our house; and that _we_ are jus' runnin' errands for 'em." And so the thing was done. Their first call netted them two gingham aprons and a faded morning dress of a type the boys called "wrappers" and a woman's hat, untrimmed. Their next brought them several pairs of women's shoes in an advanced state of dilapidation. This offering had really been made ready for the rubbish-man, but the donor thought that if the Belgians could use it, they were welcome to it. "We better sling all this junk away," suggested Gizzard as they reached the street. "Sling it away!" cried Sube. "Well, I guess not! This is as good as money to us; the second-hand man will buy every bit of it!" "What'll you gimme for my share?" asked Gizzard skeptically. "Oh, you wait," was Sube's evasive reply; "you jus' wait till that little ol' second-hand man comes round, and then you'll be glad we didn't sling it away. We'll have more money than we know what to do with!" Of course, at the moment, neither of the boys knew how literally true this prediction was to turn out. In fact, Gizzard's reply was little more than a dubious muttering to the effect that they'd better "dump the dern' stuff at the barn" before stopping anywhere else. Sube refused to do this. "'Tain't the best way," he argued. "The best way is to have our arms all full of stuff when we go to a house, and then they'll think we're genuwine, and give us more." And Sube was right. The mere sight of the "wrapper" reminded the next lady of the house they called on, that she had one she could spare. And before long the stock of "wrappers" was quite complete, with sizes full, and a wide range of patterns to select from. Then suddenly there came from the clear sky, so to speak, the most splendid offering of the day: a silken slumber-robe of stunning checkerboard design, and trimmed with a shimmering band of panne velvet. True, there were coffee stains on the front and paint stains on the back, but it was a gorgeous garment. And the suggestive effect of it was wonderful; for the first door at which Sube knocked after he had hung the slumber-robe over his arm, responded with a man's suit of gambler's-plaids that could have been suggested by nothing else. And with the plaid suit came a crimson vest with a set of brass buttons that was nearly complete. The combined effect of the slumber-robe and the suit and the vest drew from the next place a pair of men's lemon-colored shoes with moth-eaten cloth tops--and before the members of the Belgian relief committee had reached the sidewalk they were in a turmoil. The shoes had been handed to Gizzard; but the moment Sube got his eyes on them he politely offered to relieve Gizzard of the burden. "You got your hands full, there, Giz," he said; "I'll take those shoes." "Never mind," replied Gizzard, brushing hurriedly by. "I can handle 'em all right."