“Oh, for pity’s sake,” grumbled Ward. “It’s too soon after Thanksgiving. No one has any money this time of year.”
Fred gave him an exasperated glance.
“I only wish,” he said coldly, “that you’d let me know the time of year you want to pay your dues. In summer you say you need the money for ice-cream and in winter you need it for—for—icicles, I suppose!”
Ward giggled and Margy sighed.
“Now they’ll argue over that for half an hour,” she whispered to Polly.
But Fred was in no mood for argument. He felt that he had a duty to perform and he intended to perform it, whether or not his friends enjoyed the performance.
“If you think I enjoy prying you loose from ten cents, Ward Larue,” said Fred, “or you either, Artie Marley, you’re mistaken. But as long as we have a club and a treasurer and I’m the treasurer, you’re going to pay your dues and pay ’em at the right time.”
“I guess you can’t collect the money if I haven’t got it,” retorted Ward.
“Then you’ll lose your standing,” said Fred, making a wild guess at the “by-laws.” The Riddle Club had never bothered much with by-laws.
But Polly thought it time to interfere.