That evening, after supper, Frank retired to his room, and, settling
himself in his comfortable armchair, was soon deeply interested in one
of Bayard Taylor's works. While thus engaged, a light step was heard
in the hall, and, afterward, a gentle rap at his door, and Julia came
into the room.

"Now, Frank," she began, "I don't want you to read to-night."

"Why not?" he inquired.

"Why, you know that day after to-morrow is the Fourth of July, and--"

"And you haven't got your fire-works yet?" interrupted Frank.

"That's it, exactly."

"Well," said her brother, rising to put away his book, "then, I
suppose, I shall have to go down to the village and get you some. What
do you want?"

"I want all the things that are written down on this paper."

Frank took the paper and read, "Three packs of fire-crackers, four
boxes of torpedoes, three Roman candles, half a dozen pin-wheels, and
a dozen sky-rockets."

"Whew!" said Frank, as he folded up the paper and put it into his
pocket, "that's what I should call going it strong! Well, I'll tell
Mr. Sheldon [the store-keeper] to send up all the fire-works he has