“Snood is worse than Tuttle,” asserted Rob Linton. “Before he will let go of a cent he’ll squeeze it so hard that it looks as if it had been run over by a railroad train.”
“I don’t think,” said Sterndale, “that we can expect any assistance from the people of the village till we show that we are in earnest by starting the fund ourselves.”
“Hey?” gasped Old Lightning. “Well, I’ve got seven cents and a fish-hook that I’ll contribute, if you’re going to take up a collection.”
“We’ll not begin by taking up a collection,” Dick declared.
“Then hu-how can we begin?” asked Danny, earnestly.
“By saving the money we take at the gate when we play football, baseball, or anything of that sort; by getting up athletic contests that will call out paying crowds to witness the sport; and by holding a series of entertainments in the Town Hall this winter. In that way we might be able to obtain the beginning of a fund that would in time become large enough for us to accomplish our purpose and build a club-house.”
“It’s too long to wait, b’ys,” murmured Dennis Murphy. “Av we raised the money thot way, we moight get it in toime to build an ould men’s home fer some av us, an’ we’d be lucky at thot.”
“That’s right,” nodded Leon Bentley. “I believe in getting some benefit from the money as we receive it, and I’m in for using it up. I want to spend my share.”
“We haven’t heard from you, Smith,” said Sterndale, addressing a grave-looking lad, who had been listening without speaking. “What do you think?”
“I think it is a great scheme, if it can be carried out,” answered John Smith. “I believe we should talk this over and investigate it fully. It does seem rather visionary now, but it may be practical.”