Hugh and Bessie were still in the studio; for, her troubles over, Bessie's good spirits had returned, and she had persuaded Hugh to give her a sitting in order that she might satisfy a long-cherished desire to paint his portrait. "But what can you make out of my stupid phiz?" Hugh had said, laughing. "I can make Fitz Hugh Warrington out of it; fair and golden, Saxon and strong; ruddy and stalwart; lithe and long. Now sit still, Hugh, and I will do my best. If you had black eyes I would not paint you; black eyes are _snaky_; that's the reason I don't like Gideon Fish." "But he likes you, Queen Bess." "No, he only likes Aunt Faith's cake. If he had to choose between me and pie, I am afraid I should not have a chance. As for jelly, he fairly gloats over it. Do you know, Hugh, I shall feel _so_ sorry for his wife when he marries; how tired she will be of him!" "Oh, no, she won't," said Hugh; "she will think he is perfect, and cook for him all her life without ever once finding out what a humbug he is." "Well, perhaps it is better so. Deception is sometimes a blessing," said Bessie. At this point a singular noise was heard outside the door; then another, and still another. "What can that be?" said Hugh, opening the door; "Gem, what are you doing?" "Oh, Hugh, don't make any noise," said Gem, in a whisper. "_I_ am not making any noise. It is you with your shovels. What are you doing with them?" asked Hugh, laughing. "Oh, Hugh, please don't tell! but Tom and the B. B.'s are making an underground shanty, and they sent me for all the shovels, and I got all I could find, and now I can't carry them," said Gem dolefully. "An underground shanty! What in the world are you going to do with it, and who are the B. B.'s?" asked Hugh, relieving his little cousin from her load, and carrying it down the stairs for her. "Live in it, like Robinson Crusoe, you know, and roast potatoes and everything." "It will be rather hot, won't it, Pussy?" "Oh, no!" said Gem decisively; "Tom says it will be delightfully cool. We're going to have a stove, and chairs, and a table, and candles, and things to eat; and then the dogs can stay there too. Grip has never had a regular house, you know, and Tom says it isn't respectable for him to be loose round the garden at night any more, and so he's going to let him live in the shanty." "Happy Grip!" said Hugh, as he delivered the shovels at the foot of the stairs; "but who are the B. B.'s, Gem?" "Oh! the Band of Brothers,--a secret society. Don't let them see you, please, Hugh, for I promised not to tell, and I'm almost afraid of them, they've got such a dreadful motto." "What is it, Pussy?" "Ruin, Riot, and Revenge," said Gem in a solemn whisper. "Well done, B. B.'s!" said Hugh laughing; "truly, a terrific motto! There, take your shovels and run, little one. I won't betray you."