"Well," he said, as he entered the room. "I'd like an immediate interview with The Village Imps."
Each of the three gave a start of surprise.
"What do you mean, Father?" cried Marjorie.
"Why, if you belong to an Imp Society you must be Imps; aren't you?"
"Who told you about it?" asked Kitty, disappointedly. "It was to be a secret, until all the town was stirred up."
"The town is pretty well stirred up now, my girl. But I don't want reports of my children's doings from other people. Tell me all about it, yourselves."
"We will, Father," said Marjorie, evidently glad of the chance. "You tell, King; you're president."
Nothing loath, King began the tale. He gave a full account of their desire to do something that would be a public benefit of some sort. He told of Dick's suggestion, founded upon Mr. Fulton's remarks about a Village Improvement Society. He explained that they wrote letters because they hadn't money enough for any more expensive proceeding, and he wound up by proudly stating that they had mailed sixteen letters already, and hoped to send more the following week.
So earnest was the boy in his description of the work, and so honest his pride in their efforts so far, that Mr. Maynard deeply regretted the necessity of changing his view of the matter.
"Kingdon," he said, "you're fourteen years old, and I think you're old enough to know that you ought not to engage in such important affairs without getting the advice of older people."