said Jack, sure that his friend could invent anything under the sun.
“I’d do my best for you. I made a hand for a fellow once, and that
got me my place, you know,” answered Ralph, who thought little
of such mechanical trifles, and longed to be painting portraits or
modelling busts, being an artist as well as an inventor.
Here Gus, Ed, and several other boys came in, and the
conversation became general. Grif, Chick, and Brickbat were three
young gentlemen whose own respectable names were usually
ignored, and they cheerfully answered to these nicknames.
As the clock struck seven, Frank, who ruled the club with a rod of
iron when Chairman, took his place behind the study table. Seats
stood about it, and a large, shabby book lay before Gus, who was
Secretary, and kept the records with a lavish expenditure of ink, to
judge by the blots. The members took their seats, and nearly all
tilted back their chairs and put their hands in their pockets, to keep
them out of mischief; for, as everyone knows, it is impossible for
two lads to be near each other and refrain from tickling or
pinching. Frank gave three raps with an old croquet-mallet set on a
short handle, and with much dignity opened the meeting.
“Gentlemen, the business of the club will be attended to, and then
we will discuss the question, ‘Shall girls go to our colleges?’ The
Secretary will now read the report of the last meeting.”
Clearing his throat, Gus read the following brief and elegant
report:
“Club met, December I 8th, at the house of G. Burton, Esq.
Subject:
‘Is summer or winter best fun?’ A lively pow-wow. About evenly
divided. J. Flint fined five cents for disrespect to the Chair. A
collection of forty cents taken up to pay for breaking a pane of
glass during a free fight of the members on the door-step. E.
Devlin was chosen Secretary for the coming year, and a new book
contributed by the Chairman.”
“That’s all.”
“Is there any other business before the meeting?” asked Frank, as
the reader closed the old book with a slam and shoved the new
one across the table.
Ed rose, and glancing about him with an appealing look, said, as if
sure his proposition would not be well received, “I wish to propose
the name of a new member. Bob Walker wants to join, and 1 think
we ought to let him. He is trying to behave well, and I am sure we
could help him. Can’t we?”
All the boys looked sober, and Joe, otherwise Brickbat, said,
bluntly, “I won’t. He’s a bad lot, and we don’t want any such here.
Let him go with chaps of his own sort.”
“That is just what I want to keep him from! He’s a good-hearted
boy enough, oniy no one looks after him; so he gets into scrapes,
as we should, if we were in his place, I’d are say. He wants to
come here, and would be so proud if he was let in, I know he’d
behave. Come now, let’s give him a chance,” and Ed looked at Gus
and Frank, sure that if they stood by him he should carry his point.
But Gus shook his head, as if doubtful of the wisdom of the plan,
and Frank said gravely: “You know we made the rule that the
number should never be over eight, and we cannot break it.”
“You needn’t. I can’t he here half the time, so I will resign and let
Bob have my place,” began Ed, but he was silenced by shouts of
“No, no, you shan’t!” “We won’t let you off!” “Club would go to
smash, if you back out!”
“Let him have my place; I’m the youngest, and you won’t miss me,”
cried Jack, bound to stand by Ed at all costs.
“We might do that,” said Frank, who did object to small boys,
though willing to admit this particular one.
“Better make a new rule to have ten members, and admit both Bob
and Tom Grant,” said Ralph, whereat Grif grinned and Joe
scowled, for one lad liked Merry’s big brother and the other did