there was an impression among the members that all vexed
questions would be much helped by the united eloquence and
wisdom of the club.
“Very good; I’ll pass the word and be there. Hullo, Neddy! The D.
C. meets to-night, at Minot’s, seven sharp. Co-ed, &c.,” added Gus,
losing no time, as a third boy came briskly round the corner, with a
little bag in his hand.
“I’ll come. Got home an hour earlier to-night, and thought I’d look
you up as I went by,” responded Ed Devlin, as he took possession
of the third post, with a glance toward the schoolhouse to see if a
seal-skin cap, with a long, yellow braid depending therefrom, was
anywhere in sight.
“Very good of you, I’m sure,” said Gus, ironically, not a bit
deceived by this polite attention.
“The longest way round is sometimes the shortest way home, hey,
Ed?” and Frank gave him a playful poke that nearly sent him off
his perch.
Then they all laughed at some joke of their own, and Gus added,
“No girls coming to hear us to-night. Don’t think it, my son.
“More’s the pity,” and Ed shook his head regretfully over the
downfall of his hopes.
“Can’t help it; the other fellows say they spoil the fun, so we have
to give in, sometimes, for the sake of peace and quietness. Don’t
mind having them a bit myself,” said Frank, in such a tone of
cheerful resignation that they laughed again, for the “Triangle,” as
the three chums were called, always made merry music.
“We must have a game party next week. The girls like that, and so
do I,” candidly observed Gus, whose pleasant parlors were the
scene of many such frolics.
“And so do your sisters and your cousins and your aunts,” hummed
Ed, for Gus was often called Admiral because he really did possess
three sisters, two cousins, and four aunts, besides mother and
grandmother, all living in the big house together.
The boys promptly joined in the popular chorus, and other voices
all about the yard took it up, for the “Pinafore” epidemic raged
fearfully in Harmony Village that winter.
“How’s business?” asked Gus, when the song ended, for Ed had not
returned to school in the autumn, but had gone into a store in the
city.
“Dull; things will look up toward spring, they say. I get on well
enough, but I miss you fellows dreadfully”; and Ed put a hand on
the broad shoulder of each friend, as if he longed to be a
school-boy again.
“Better give it up and go to college with me next year,” said Frank,
who was preparing for Boston University, while Gus fitted for
Harvard.
“No; I’ve chosen business, and I mean to stick to it, so don’t you
unsettle my mind. Have you practised that March?” asked Ed,
turning to a gayer subject, for he had his little troubles, but always
looked on the bright side of things.
“Skating is so good, I don’t get much time. Come early, and we’ll
have a turn at it.”
“I will. Must run home now.”
“Pretty cold loafing here.”
“Mail is in by this time.”
And with these artless excuses the three boys leaped off the posts,
as if one spring moved them, as a group of girls came chattering
down the path. The blue cloud floated away beside Frank, the
scarlet feather marched off with the Admiral, while the fur cap
nodded to the gray hat as two happy faces smiled at each other.
The same thing often happened, for twice a-day the streets were
full of young couples walking to and from school together, smiled
at by the elders, and laughed at by the less susceptible boys and
girls, who went alone or trooped along in noisy groups. The
prudent mothers had tried to stop this guileless custom, but found
it very difficult, as the fathers usually sympathized with their sons,
and dismissed the matter with the comfortable phrase, “Never
mind; boys will be boys.” “Not forever,” returned the anxious
mammas, seeing the tall lads daily grow more manly, and the
pretty daughters fast learning to look demure when certain names
were mentioned.