Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/442

310 a lot of things I ought to know but don’t know. If secret societies are the thing, let ’s have one of them at once, I say.”

“I heard some chips from St. John’s talking about their Alpha Phi doings the other day,” piped in Jim Martin. “At first I thought they were discussing apple-pie; but when I found it was n’t that, I felt squarely out of it. I did my level best to look knowing; but I could n’t help a sneaking fear that they suspected I was n’t “on.” I think we've got to add ’em to the list. Hope they ‘re more fun than the faculty’s latest additions.”

The next evening a meeting of the junior class was called, at which Jim Martin moved that the junior class of Wellsburgh Academy should have a secret society.

“Second the motion,” came a subdued voice, and in breathless expectancy they waited while the president carefully thought out the correct form for such an important motion.

“Gentlemen, it is moved and seconded that the junior class of Wellsburgh Academy shall have a secret society. All in favor say,‘Ay’—and mind ye don’t make a noise about it, either!” wound up the dignified presiding officer.

There was a subdued rumble of “ays,” and as there was no answer when the “noes” were called for, a count seemed hardly necessary.

A minute’s awkward silence followed the vote. No one seemed to know just what to do next.

And then Rob managed to recall the parliamentary procedure at a meeting to which he had gone with his father. He was a bit rusty, but was at least equal to this occasion.

“The motion having been carried that the academy shall have a secret society, it is the next duty of this meeting to decide on what form that society shall take. The chair is ready for suggestions,”

“What’s the matter with a historical or patriotic society, or something of that kind?” suggested Simmons, who had just come in. A pang of envy shot through Rob’s mind at that idea, for he knew why it had occurred to Simmons. Though Simmons was too much of a gentleman ever to boast, the boys knew from Willis, who had visited at his house, that the proudest possessions of Simmons’s father were the portraits of some Revolutionary ancestors and the sword of his great-grandfather, who had commanded a company at Bunker Hill. To a boy with military aspirations such a record and such ancestral possessions seemed priceless.

“Good idea, seems to me,” Jones said. “Make it in a motion, and that will show the sense of the meeting.”

Great enthusiasm, sternly subdued, greeted Simmons’s suggestion, and in short order it was decided. A historical society it should be. They would collect historical articles, and would have a reference library of their own. It would take time; but future classes would get the benefit, and the class of 1903 would always have the credit of having begun it all.

“Where shall we meet? This pajama. business isn’t all it’s cracked up to be on cold nights,” lamented Smithers through chattering teeth.

“There's the old store-room upstairs. Let’s ask Richardson if we may use it,” was Rob’s suggestion.

Just then the opening of a door and an apologetic cough froze the blood of the conspirators. Keasby always coughed warningly before descending “like a wolf on the fold"—he had been a boy once himself, This gave time for a sharp “Shut up, you kids!” from some one, and the light went out suddenly as the tutor’s step was heard at the door. Under the farthest corner of the bed three miscreants were hidden, in the closet were two, and past Keasby at the door shot several. The hand which reached for them did so in a groping way that did not give evidence of any stern determination to catch the offenders; and by the time Keasby had struck a light, and was gazing blinkingly around, only three of the culprits were visible—Potts, whose room it was; Pierson, who, as class president and chairman of the meeting, scored to leave his fellow to face the music alone; and Fatty Wilson, who was rolling on the floor in convulsions of laughter. too weak to get up and run.

“What does this mean, boys?” inquired a stern voice. “This is a wilful disobedience of rules,”

“Well, you see, sir, we were just talking over a secret plan that could n’t be discussed downstairs, This was the only way to do it.”