“Who said anything about ice skating?” demanded Carrie.
“Well, you were talking about ice,” retorted Mattie.
“I was thinking about the Riddle Club,” said Carrie. “If it will only get good and cold, they won’t be able to have their silly old meetings.”
“I don’t see why,” remarked Mattie, wondering what the weather had to do with club meetings.
“You would, if you’d do some thinking,” said her chum. “When it gets too cold to meet in the barn, where’ll they go?”
“Oh, around to different houses, I suppose,” answered Mattie. “They’ll do the way we do.”
“Polly Marley won’t let ’em,” was Carrie’s reply to this. “She doesn’t like going around to different places to meet. I’ve often heard her say so. And if they don’t meet in the barn, they won’t meet anywhere. Then, perhaps, we’ll get a little peace. I do get so sick,” added Carrie, “of hearing about that old Riddle Club.”
“So do I,” Mattie responded. “You’d think they had the only club in River Bend, to hear ’em talk.”
The question of where they should hold their club meetings in cold weather was also puzzling Polly. She knew the answer to the puzzle would have to come from her. Margy would be the first to complain of the discomfort of the cold barn, but the last to suggest another meeting place. Jess was hardy and would cheerfully endure a red nose and cold hands before she would take the trouble to move. As for the boys, they naturally expected Polly to think things over and work plans out, and while they would fall in with her suggestions, it was useless to look to them for ideas.
November came in cold and gray and the month was not six days old before the citizens of River Bend looked out one morning to find feathery flakes floating in the air. Fathers thought of their coal-bins and children of their sleds, but Polly’s thoughts flew to the clubroom in the Larue barn. A meeting of the Riddle Club was scheduled for the next day.