We debated whether red or yellow roses were most likely to give good results. At last we decided to combine the two colors, and a tempting mixture they made. We put the leaves in my hat, and climbed the fence again into the Masons' back yard. The next ingredient was brown sugar. Here, again, the matter was simple. A barrel of the pleasing substance lived in a certain dim passage leading from Ed Mason's mother's pantry. It was dark, moist, and a joy forever. It had the crawly habit peculiar to brown sugar, and it came away (when questing hands were plunged into the barrel) in lumps that filled the mouth and turned the cares of life to vanity and unimportance. With it, during hard days, we frequently restored our wasted tissues. The rose-leaves were left to themselves while we made a reconnaissance in force toward the place of the sugar barrel. The enemy (one Nora Sullivan, a desperate character) was reported as engaged in washing dishes in the kitchen. She neglected to station any outposts, so her carelessness was our advantage. We made the customary investigation for a large gray rat--supposed, since a time to which the mind of man runneth not back, to dwell behind the barrel. As usual, he was found missing. We seized the sugar and retired in discretion and stickiness to the yard. There we mixed the rose-leaves and the sugar. From the vine that grew on the side of the woodshed we picked a large leaf. This was the vine that furnished leaves to be worn inside our hats to prevent sunstroke on hot days. No one knows how many sunstrokes we escaped by means of those grape leaves. We wrapped the red and yellow petals, well covered with sugar, in the grape leaf, and secured it with straws and blades of grass. No creeping worm nor brisk beetle was to partake of this food of the gods. Next came the rite of burial. There was no doubt that the leaf and its contents must be buried in Auntie Merrill's garden. That was the scene of all mysteries, and the only place where our caché would be reasonably secure from Ed Mason's sister Louise and her friend Jessie Plummer. These were high matters, too great for the feminine intellect. Also, of course, we had Auntie Merrill to consider. A place must be discovered where she would not come poking around. "Back of the lilies-of-the-valley," said Ed Mason. "It's kind of wet there," I objected. "What dif'rence does that make?" "Well, it might not work there. I tell you: let's put 'em in the corner, near Hawkins' shed." "No; I want 'em back of the lilies-of-the-valley. It's my mother's brown sugar, and Billy told me how to do it. You wouldn't know anything 'bout it if I hadn't told you!"