"Look here, old man, we ought to have a meeting. Holidays are
over, and we must brace up and attend to business," said Frank to
Gus, as they strolled out of the schoolyard one afternoon in
January, apparently absorbed in conversation, but in reality waiting
for a blue cloud and a scarlet feather to appear on the steps.

"All right. When, where, and what?" asked Gus, who was a man of
few words.

"To-night, our house, subject, ‘Shall girls go to college with us?’
Mother said we had better be making up our minds, because
every one is talking about it, and we shall have to be on one side or
the other, so we may as well settle it now," answered Frank, for
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.

It could not be stopped without great parental sternness and the
danger of deceit, for co-education will go on outside of school
if not inside, and the safest way is to let sentiment and study go
hand in hand, with teachers and parents to direct and explain the
great lesson all are the better for learning soon or late. So the
elders had to give in, acknowledging that this sudden readiness to
go to school was a comfort, that the new sort of gentle emulation
worked wonders in lazy girls and boys, and that watching these
"primrose friendships" bud, blossom, and die painless deaths, gave
a little touch of romance to their own work-a-day lives.

"On the whole I’d rather have my sons walking, playing, and
studying with bright, well-mannered girls, than always knocking
about with rough boys," said Mrs. Minot at one of the Mothers’
Meetings, where the good ladies met to talk over their children,
and help one another to do their duty by them.

"I find that Gus is more gentle with his sisters since Juliet took him
in hand, for he wants to stand well with her, and they report him if
he troubles them. I really see no harm in the little friendship,
though I never had any such when I was a girl," said Mrs. Burton,
who adored her one boy and was his confidante.

"My Merry seems to be contented with her brothers so far, but I
shouldn’t wonder if I had my hands full by and by," added Mrs.
Grant, who already foresaw that her sweet little daughter would be
sought after as soon as she should lengthen her skirts and turn up
her bonny brown hair.

Molly Loo had no mother to say a word for her, but she settled
matters for herself by holding fast to Merry, and declaring that she
would have no escort but faithful Boo.

It is necessary to dwell a moment upon this new amusement,
because it was not peculiar to Harmony Village, but appears
everywhere as naturally as the game parties and croquet which
have taken the place of the husking frolics and apple-bees of olden
times, and it is impossible to dodge the subject if one attempts to
write of boys and girls as they really are nowadays.

"Here, my hero, see how you like this. If it suits, you will be ready
to march as soon as the doctor gives the word," said Ralph, coming
into the Bird Room that evening with a neat little crutch under his
arm.

"Ha, ha, that looks fine! I’d like to try it right off, but I won’t till I
get leave. Did you make it yourself, Ral?" asked Jack, handling it
with delight, as he sat bolt upright, with his leg on a rest, for he
was getting on capitally now.

"Mostly. Rather a neat job, I flatter myself."

"I should say so. What a clever fellow you are! Any new inventions
lately?" asked Frank, coming up to examine and admire.

"Only an anti-snoring machine and an elbow-pad," answered Ralph,
with a twinkle in his eye, as if reminded of something funny.

"Go on, and tell about them. I never heard of an anti-snorer. Jack
better have one," said Frank, interested at once.

"Well, a rich old lady kept her family awake with that lively music,
so she sent to Shirtman and Codleff for something to stop it. They
thought it was a good joke, and told me to see what I could do. I
thought it over, and got up the nicest little affair you ever saw. It
went over the mouth, and had a tube to fit the ear, so when the
lady snored she woke herself up and stopped it. It suited exactly. I
think of taking out a patent," concluded Ralph, joining in the boys’
laugh at the droll idea.

"What was the pad?" asked Frank, returning to the small model of
an engine he was making.

"Oh, that was a mere trifle for a man who had a tender elbow-joint
and wanted something to protect it. I made a little pad to fit on,
and his crazy-bone was safe."

"I planned to have you make me a new leg if this one was spoilt,"
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 every one 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 18th, 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 I 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, only no one looks after him; so he gets into scrapes,
as we should, if we were in his place, I dare 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 be 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
not.

"That’s a good idea! Put it to vote," said Gus, too kind-hearted to
shut the door on any one.

"First I want to ask if all you fellows are ready to stand by Bob, out
of the club as well as in, for it won’t do much good to be kind to
him here and cut him at school and in the street," said Ed, heartily
in earnest about the matter.

"I will!" cried Jack, ready to follow where his beloved friend led,
and the others nodded, unwilling to be outdone by the youngest
member.

"Good! With all of us to lend a hand, we can do a great deal; and I
tell you, boys, it is time, if we want to keep poor Bob straight. We
all turn our backs on him, so he loafs round the tavern, and goes
with fellows we don’t care to know. But he isn’t bad yet, and we
can keep him up, I’m sure, if we just try. I hope to get him into the
Lodge, and that will be half the battle, won’t it, Frank?" added Ed,
sure that this suggestion would have weight with the honorable
Chairman.

"Bring him along; I’m with you!" answered Frank, making up his
mind at once, for he had joined the Temperance Lodge four years
ago, and already six boys had followed his example.

"He is learning to smoke, but we’ll make him drop it before it leads
to worse. You can help him there, Admiral, if you only will,"
added Ed, giving a grateful look at one friend, and turning to the
other.

"I’m your man;" and Gus looked as if he knew what he promised,
for he had given up smoking to oblige his father, and kept his word
like a hero.

"You other fellows can do a good deal by just being kind and not
twitting him with old scrapes, and I’ll do anything I can for you all
to pay for this;" and Ed sat down with a beaming smile, feeling
that his cause was won.

The vote was taken, and all hands went up, for even surly Joe gave
in; so Bob and Tom were duly elected, and proved their gratitude
for the honor done them by becoming worthy members of the club.
It was only boys’ play now, but the kind heart and pure instincts of
one lad showed the others how to lend a helping hand to a
comrade in danger, and win him away from temptation to the
safer pastimes of their more guarded lives.

Well pleased with themselves – for every genuine act or word, no
matter how trifling it seems, leaves a sweet and strengthening
influence behind – the members settled down to the debate, which
was never very long, and often only an excuse for fun of all sorts.

"Ralph, Gus, and Ed are for, and Brickbat, Grif, and Chick against,
I suppose?" said Frank, surveying his company like a general
preparing for battle.

"No, sir! I believe in co-everything!" cried Chick, a mild youth,
who loyally escorted a chosen damsel home from school every
day.

A laugh greeted this bold declaration, and Chick sat down, red but
firm.

"I’ll speak for two since the Chairman can’t, and Jack won’t go
against those who pet him most to death," said Joe, who, not being
a favorite with the girls, considered them a nuisance and lost no
opportunity of telling them so.

"Fire away, then, since you are up;" commanded Frank.

"Well," began Joe, feeling too late how much he had undertaken,
"I don’t know a great deal about it, and I don’t care, but I do not
believe in having girls at college. They don’t belong there, nobody
wants ’em, and they’d better be at home darning their stockings."

"Yours, too," put in Ralph, who had heard that argument so often
he was tired of it.

"Of course; that’s what girls are for. I don’t mind ’em at school, but
I’d just as soon they had a room to themselves. We should get on
better."

"You would if Mabel wasn’t in your class and always ahead of
you," observed Ed, whose friend was a fine scholar, and he very
proud of the fact.

"Look here, if you fellows keep interrupting, I won’t sit down for
half an hour," said Joe, well knowing that eloquence was not his
gift, but bound to have his say out.

Deep silence reigned, for that threat quelled the most impatient
member, and Joe prosed on, using all the arguments he had ever
heard, and paying off several old scores by sly hits of a personal
nature, as older orators often do.

"It is clear to my mind that boys would get on better without any
girls fooling round. As for their being as smart as we are, it is all
nonsense, for some of ’em cry over their lessons every day, or go
home with headaches, or get mad and scold all recess, because
something ‘isn’t fair.’ No, sir; girls ain’t meant to know much, and
they can’t. Wise folks say so and I believe ’em. Haven’t got any
sisters myself, and I don’t want any, for they don’t seem to amount
to much, according to those who do have ’em."

Groans from Gus and Ed greeted the closing remarks of the
ungallant Joe, who sat down, feeling that he had made somebody
squirm. Up jumped Grif, the delight of whose life was practical
jokes, which amiable weakness made him the terror of the girls,
though they had no other fault to find with the merry lad.

"Mr. Chairman, the ground I take is this: girls have not the strength
to go to college with us. They couldn’t row a race, go on a lark, or
take care of themselves, as we do. They are all well enough at
home, and I like them at parties, but for real fun and go I wouldn’t
give a cent for them," began Grif, whose views of a collegiate life
were confined to the enjoyments rather than the studies of that
festive period. "I have tried them, and they can’t stand anything.
They scream if you tell them there is a mouse in the room, and run
if they see a big dog. I just put a cockroach in Molly’s desk one
day, and when she opened it she jumped as if she was shot."

So did the gentlemen of the club, for at that moment half-a-dozen
fire-crackers exploded under the chair Grif had left, and flew
wildly about the room. Order was with difficulty restored, the
mischievous party summarily chastised and commanded to hold
his tongue, under penalty of ejectment from the room if he spoke
again. Firmly grasping that red and unruly member, Grif composed
himself to listen, with his nose in the air and his eyes shining like
black beads.

Ed was always the peace-maker, and now, when he rose with his
engaging smile, his voice fell like oil upon the troubled waters,
and his bright face was full of the becoming bashfulness which
afflicts youths of seventeen when touching upon such subjects of
newly acquired interest as girls and their pleasant but perplexing
ways.

"It seems to me we have hardly considered the matter enough to be
able to say much. But I think that school would be awfully dry and
dismal without – ahem! – any young ladies to make it nice. I
wouldn’t give a pin to go if there was only a crowd of fellows,
though I like a good game as well as any man. I pity any boy who
has no sisters," continued Ed, warming up as he thought of his
own, who loved him dearly, as well they might, for a better brother
never lived. "Home wouldn’t be worth having without them to look
after a fellow, to keep him out of scrapes, help him with his
lessons, and make things jolly for his friends. I tell you we can’t do
without girls, and I’m not ashamed to say that I think the more we
see of them, and try to be like them in many ways, the better men
we shall be by and by."

"Hear! hear!" cried Frank, in his deepest tone, for he heartily
agreed to that, having talked the matter over with his mother, and
received much light upon things which should always be set right
in young heads and hearts. And who can do this so wisely and well
as mothers, if they only will?

Feeling that his sentiments had been approved, and he need not be
ashamed of the honest color in his cheeks, Ed sat down amid the
applause of his side, especially of Jack, who pounded so
vigorously with his crutch that Mrs. Pecq popped in her head to
see if anything was wanted.

"No, thank you, ma’am, we were only cheering Ed," said Gus, now
upon his legs, and rather at a loss what to say till Mrs. Pecq’s
appearance suggested an idea, and he seized upon it.

"My honored friend has spoken so well that I have little to add. I
agree with him, and if you want an example of what girls can do,
why, look at Jill. She’s young, I know, but a first-rate scholar for
her age. As for pluck, she is as brave as a boy, and almost as smart
at running, rowing, and so on. Of course, she can’t play ball – no
girl can; their arms are not made right to throw – but she can catch
remarkably well. I’ll say that for her. Now, if she and Mabel – and –
and – some others I could name, are so clever and strong at the
beginning, I don’t see why they shouldn’t keep up and go along
with us all through. I’m willing, and will do what I can to help
other fellows’ sisters as I’d like to have them help mine. And I’ll
punch their heads if they don’t;" and Gus subsided, assured, by a
burst of applause, that his manly way of stating the case met with
general approval.

"We shall be happy to hear from our senior member if he will
honor us with a few remarks," said Frank, with a bow to Ralph.

No one ever knew whom he would choose to personate, for he
never spoke in his own character. Now he rose slowly, put one
hand in his bosom, and fixing his eye sternly on Grif, who was
doing something suspicious with a pin, gave them a touch of
Sergeant Buzfuz, from the Pickwick trial, thinking that the debate
was not likely to throw much light on the subject under discussion.
In the midst of this appeal to "Me lud and gentlemen of the jury,"
he suddenly paused, smoothed his hair down upon his forehead,
rolled up his eyes, and folding his hands, droned out Mr.
Chadband’s sermon on Peace, delivered over poor Jo, and ending
with the famous lines: –

"Oh, running stream of sparkling joy,

To be a glorious human boy!"

Then, setting his hair erect with one comprehensive sweep, he
caught up his coat-skirts over his arm, and, assuming a
parliamentary attitude, burst into a comical medley, composed of
extracts from Jefferson Brick’s and Lafayette Kettle’s speeches, and
Elijah Pogram’s Defiance, from "Martin Chuzzlewit." Gazing at
Gus, who was convulsed with suppressed merriment, he thundered
forth: –

"In the name of our common country, sir, in the name of that
righteous cause in which we are jined, and in the name of the
star-spangled banner, I thank you for your eloquent and categorical
remarks. You, sir, are a model of a man fresh from Natur’s mould.
A true-born child of this free hemisphere; verdant as the mountains
of our land; bright and flowin’ as our mineral Licks; unspiled by
fashion as air our boundless perearers. Rough you may be; so air
our Barrs. Wild you may be; so air our Buffalers. But, sir, you air
a Child of Freedom, and your proud answer to the Tyrant is, that
your bright home is in the Settin’ Sun. And, sir, if any man denies
this fact, though it be the British Lion himself, I defy him. Let me
have him here!" – smiting the table, and causing the inkstand to
skip – "here, upon this sacred altar! Here, upon the ancestral ashes
cemented with the glorious blood poured out like water on the
plains of Chickabiddy Lick. Alone I dare that Lion, and tell him
that Freedom’s hand once twisted in his mane, he rolls a corse
before me, and the Eagles of the Great Republic scream, Ha, ha!"

By this time the boys were rolling about in fits of laughter; even
sober Frank was red and breathless, and Jack lay back, feebly
squealing, as he could laugh no more. In a moment Ralph was as
meek as a Quaker, and sat looking about him with a mildly
astonished air, as if inquiring the cause of such unseemly mirth. A
knock at the door produced a lull, and in came a maid with apples.

"Time’s up; fall to and make yourselves comfortable," was the
summary way in which the club was released from its sterner
duties and permitted to unbend its mighty mind for a social
half-hour, chiefly devoted to whist, with an Indian war-dance as a
closing ceremony.