k, looking like a strapping peasant woman, with a
bonnet that was stuck on the top of his head like a man's hat.

There stood Clive, looking like a pretty peasant girl, quite Italian
in his style, with a dress that was a trifle neater than the others.

And there was Bob, an utter and unmitigated absurdity,--with s
dress that was tangled about his legs, and a bonnet that had no
crown. The four of them looked more like escaped lunatics than
anything else, and no sooner had David taken in the whole scene,
than he burst forth into a perfect convulsion of laughter.

Thus far the disguise had possessed nothing but a serious character
in the minds of the wearers. By means of this disguise they had
hoped to escape, and the costumes, being thus a help to safety,
had been dignified in their eyes. But now, when the danger was
over, and safety assured, there was nothing to hide from their eyes
the unutterable absurdity, the inconceivable ludicrousness of their
appearance. As David's laugh burst forth, each turned his eyes upon
the other, and saw how it was.

Then they all burst forth! It was a cataclysm of laughter. The boys
swayed backward and forward, and danced up and down, and shouted,
and yelled with laughter. Uncle Moses stood with his eyes shut and
his figure bent double. Frank stared at each one in succession,
and then at himself, giving a scream at each figure. Clive laughed
till he sank down; and Bob, flinging himself upon the ground in a
perfect paroxysm, rolled over and over, and kicked, and yelled,
and fairly howled in one prolonged and uproarious cachinnation.

The uproar aroused the house.

The driver hurried out of the barn and joined in the roar.

The hostler followed him.

The servants came from the hotel, and lent their voices.

The landlord came out, and was at once seized with a convulsion.

After the landlord came Ludlow. He didn't altogether understand
it; but he saw David, and he saw the four figures; and from what
the landlord had been telling him, he knew who they were. The
sight overwhelmed him. He opened his mouth. He burst forth. It was
tremendous. It was Olympian. It was the laughter of Homer's immortals.
It was a thunder-peal. It was too much. He could not keep his feet,
but sank down on the stone steps, and burying his face in his hands,
gave way utterly.

Thus it Was, then, that David, the most solemn of boys, returned
to his distracted and anxious friends.

At length the laughter cea