A feud, as fierce as that between the Montagues and Capulets, had for several years raged between the boys of Valleytown and the country lads living on the breezy hills just above the small village. Originating in a feeling of jealousy, it waxed hotter and more bitter with every game of ball and every examination at the "Academy" where they were forced to meet the rival factions, tauntingly dubbing each other "Lilies of the Valley" and "Ground Moles," while if a Lily chanced to whip a Mole in a fair fight all the town-bred youths immediately stood on their heads for joy, and if a Mole went above a Lily in class, the entire hill company crowed as loudly as the chanticleers of the barnyard. By general consent two boys had come to be considered the leaders of the respective factions; handsome, quick-witted Roy Hastings of the former, and stronger, bright Carl Duckworth of the latter; while it[Pg 261] was an annoyance to each that their sisters had struck up a "bosom friendship" and stubbornly refused to share in their brothers' feud.  
"It is so absurd in Roy," said Helen Hastings, "to want me not to visit Maizie, whom I love so dearly, just because one of her family has beaten him at baseball and shot more pigeons this spring."
 
"And Helen shall come to tea as often as she likes to put up with our plain fare," declared little Miss Duckworth, "even if Carl does look like a thunder-cloud all supper time and has hardly enough politeness to pass the butter."
 
So matters stood when, one evening in early June, the commander of the heights' coterie summoned his followers to a meeting in the loft of an old barn on his father's estate, that was only used as a storehouse since a better one had been built.
 
"Hello, fellows, what is this pow-wow about?" asked agile Mark Tripp, as he sprang up a rickety ladder and popped his head through the square opening in the attic floor.
 
"Dun'no; some bee, Duckworth, here, has buzzing round in his bonnet," replied lazy Hugh Blossom from the hay, where he reclined. "It takes the captain to have 'happy thoughts,'" while, playfully pulling a refractory lock of hair sticking out from Carl's head, he gaily chanted:
 
[Pg 262]
 
"And the duck with the feather curled over his back,
He leads all the others, with his quack! quack! quack!"
"Good enough! All right, Ducky, proceed with your quacking! Let's know what's up! Are the 'low-ly lil-is of the val-ly' once more on the war path? And to what do they challenge us—a spelling match or a swimming race?"
 
"To neither. Those very superior posies are about to seek glory in another way. I have learned from a most reliable source that they are now hoarding all their pocket money in order to astonish the natives. In fact, fellers, they intend to fresco Valleytown a decided carmine on the 'Glorious Fourth,' and we have got to make the hills hum to quench 'em."
 
"What form is their celebration to take?" asked little Peter Wheatly.
 
"Fireworks, principally. Real stunners! Not just a few Roman candles and sky-rockets, but flower-pots throwing up colored balls that burst into stars, zigzagging serpents, and all sorts of things, such as have never been seen round here before. Why, our big bonfire and giant crackers will be nowhere."
 
"Right you are there, Cap," said Hugh. "They will have all the country down on the Green patting them on the back for their public spirit, while we occupy a back seat. It's a pretty bright move for the Lilies, and I don't see how we can prevent it."
 
[Pg 263]
 
"Get up a counter-attraction. Pyro—pyro—what do you call 'em will make a good deal finer show from Round Knob than down yonder in the dale."
 
"Sure. But where are your pyrotechnics to come from?"
 
"From the city, of course. See here, I wrote to a firm there as soon as I learned the Lilies' secret, and they sent me a price-list." Young Duckworth produced a very gay red and yellow circular, but the boys only looked at each other in blank amazement. The hillside farmers were nearly all land poor, gaining but a bare subsistence out of the rocky New England soil and seldom had a dime, much less dollars, to squander on mere amusement.
 
"Guess you think we are Rothschilds or Vanderbilts," snickered small Peter.
 
"Pennies always burn a hole in my pocket and drop right out," said Mark.
 
"I might chip in a copper cent and a nickel with a dig in it," drawled Hugh, and there was no one else who could do better.
 
"Well, I know you are an impecunious lot," continued Carl, "but next week the strawberries will be dead ripe. If you fellows will only be patriotic and pitch in and pick for the cause we can put Roy Hastings and his top-lofty crowd to the blush by getting up a really respectable show with a 'piece' as a topper off. I don't believe the Valleyites ever thought of a 'piece.'"
 
[Pg 264]
 
"What sort of a piece?" asked Bud Perkins.
 
"Why, a fancy piece of fireworks, of course. Just listen to what Powder & Co. offer!" and Carl read aloud: "'Realistic spectacle of Mother Goose, in peaked hat and scarlet cloak, with her gander by her side. The head of George Washington, the Father of his Country, surrounded by thirteen stars. Very fine. Superb figure of Christopher Columbus landing from his Spanish galleon upon the American shore. One of our most magnificent designs."
 
"There, don't that sound prime? They're expensive, awfully expensive, but we can economize on the rockets and little things to come out strong, in a blaze of glory, at the end. I warrant a Mother Goose or, better yet, a Washington would shut up the Lilies' leaves in a jiffy."
 
"Or Christopher Columbus—I vote for old Chris," shouted Mark.
 
"Yes, yes, Chris and his galleon," chorused the others.
 
"It is the dearest of them all," remarked Carl, somewhat dubiously.
 
"No matter, 'Chris or nothing,' say we." So it was decided, and before the boys parted they had all agreed, if they could win their parents' consent, to hire out for the berry-picking and to contribute every cent thus earned toward the Fourth of July celebration.
 
There is no spur like competition, and for the next three weeks the ambitious youths devoted themselves[Pg 265] heart, and soul, and fingers to the cause; but the pickers had their reward, when, the berry harvest over, they found they could send a tolerably satisfactory order to Powder & Co., and when, on the third of July, a great box arrived by express, was unpacked, and its contents secretly, and under the cover of night, stored away in the lower part of Farmer Duckworth's discarded barn, their exuberant delight burst forth in sundry ecstatic somersaults and Indian-like dances.
 
It may be, however, that their exultation might have been tempered with caution had they been aware of two figures gliding stealthily through the darkness without, and known that the case, bearing the name of the city firm, when it was taken from the train, had not escaped the sharp eyes of Roy Hastings and his chum Ed Spafford.
 
"How do you suppose they ever raised the money to buy all those fireworks?" asked one shadow of another shadow, as they flitted down the hill.
 
"I don't know, confound 'em! But I do know their show is better than ours, and something has got to be done!"
 
"Yes, indeed, and surely, Roy, there must be some way!"
 
"There always is where there is a will, and—and—matches!"
 
Boom, boom, boom! Old Captain Stone's ancient[Pg 266] cannon announced the advent of another Independence Day shortly after midnight, and Young America was quickly abroad with the Chinese cracker and torpedo.
 
Helen Hastings disliked the deafening racket of the village and, therefore, early beat a retreat to the hills, determined to enjoy the day in her own fashion with Maizie, who welcomed her with open arms.
 
"I am so glad you have come, Nell, dear, for I was feeling as blue as your sash, if it is the Fourth of July!"
 
"Why, darling, what is the matter?"
 
"Oh, I am so worried because pa is worried. He don't act a bit like his dear, jolly, old self, but goes round with a long face and can neither eat nor sleep. Ma says it is because a mortgage or something is coming due, and the crops have been so bad for several years that he is afraid he may have to sell the farm and move out West. It would just break my heart to leave this place."
 
"So it would mine. But there, Maizie, it is foolish to be troubled about what may never happen. It is so warm let us find a nice cool spot and finish the book we commenced the other day."
 
"There is a good current of air through the loft of the old barn. We will go there if you can scramble up the ladder."
 
This, with some assistance, Helen succeeded in doing,[Pg 267] and the two girls were soon nestling in the sweet, new-mown hay.
 
"Eleven o'clock," announced Helen, consulting her little chatelaine watch as they finally laid down the entertaining story they had been reading, "and I am both sleepy and thirsty."
 
"Well, my dear, lie back and take a nap and I will go and make lemonade for ............