One by one they carried down the treasures from their clubroom—the silver loving cup; the six chairs; the framed sketch, made by the artist, Miss Perry; Artie’s gun; and the radio set. This last was to go in the Larue living-room for the winter. It would not be needed in the clubroom, for Artie had his own set, as did Fred. They left the curtains, because Mrs. Marley had all her windows curtained alike, and the new room already had ruffled white draperies screening the windows above the window seat.
“I hope Carrie Pepper knows we have a clubroom,” said Margy, as she helped Polly take down the pennant tacked in place on the loft-room wall.
“She will know it, if she doesn’t now,” declared Jess. “That girl hears everything, sooner or later.”
They could hardly blame Carrie if she learned about the new clubroom, for ten minutes later Mrs. Pepper came out to feed her hens and discovered something unusual going on in the barn.
“What are you doing, Fred Williamson?” she asked Fred, seeing him start, whistling, for the Marley house, two chairs over his back.
“We’re moving, Mrs. Pepper,” he answered, politely.
“Moving? Where to? Is Mr. Larue moving?” asked Mrs. Pepper, forgetting to sprinkle any more corn.
“No, Mr. Larue isn’t moving. The Riddle Club is,” Fred explained. “We’re going to hold our meetings at the Marleys’ till warm weather comes again. You ought to see the dandy room we’re going to have!”
“I pity Mrs. Marley with a parcel of young ones racketing over her house,” sighed Mrs. Pepper. “I suppose she thinks she can keep an eye on you better. But I wouldn’t give much for her furniture by spring time.”
“We have our own furniture,” said Jess, indignantly. She had come up with Fred in time to hear this last remark. “We stay in our own clubroom for meetings, and we don’t hurt a thing.”