The much-talked-of farce wound up the evening’s entertainment, and every one agreed that it was about as humorous a sketch as they had ever heard or read. Even Nat was to be seen in the audience, his customary grin adorning his bold face; and it was quite evident that he had come out to hear what sort of thing Dick had originated to compete against his own stolen effort.
In the commencement of the evening Harry Bartlett had made an announcement to the effect that the entertainment was to be repeated for two successive nights.
“The receipts are to be devoted to several purposes connected with this new branch of the Y. M. C. A.,” he went on to state; “one of which I am pleased to say will be the extending of the Boys’ Library, which already contains over one hundred volumes of books written by such authors as the boys love. All of these books have been approved by a capable censor, Mr. Holwell, who knows what a boy should read better than any other person in Cliffwood.”
As Harry made this broad statement there was a sudden whirlwind of applause for a full minute that must have cheered the heart of the minister; nor would the boys stop clapping their hands until from his corner, where he had hoped to remain unobserved, Mr. Holwell was forced to stand up, and, waving his hand, smilingly say:
“Thank you all, a thousand times. I would rather be reckoned a true friend of the boys of Cliffwood than to conquer a kingdom. And to the older persons present, some of whom may have entertained doubts about the success of our latest movement to interest our lads in clean sports and indoor entertainments, I wish to say, watch the streets these nights, and compare things with what they were six months ago. That is all.”
When the farce had finally come to an end amidst uproarious laughter, there was no disposition on the part of the audience to disperse immediately.
“They want you, Dick!” said Leslie, behind the curtain.
“Listen to ’em calling your name!” added Peg, delightedly. “The fellows are shouting it in concert, just as they do the school yell at the football games.”
“You’ve got to step out before the curtain and say a few words, or they’ll pull the house down,” Elmer told the laughing and excited author of the piece.
“I’d rather take a licking, but I suppose I’ll just have to do it,” Dick went on to say, with a shrug of his shoulders.