So in we went, and there were six men sitting around a table, looking sour and impatient, and every one of them gave us a scowl as we came in. Wiggamore came along.
“Gentlemen,” says President James, “here are four boys from Wicksville—and Mr. Wiggamore. Maybe between them we can get some satisfactory idea of what is happening there.”
“What have a crowd of kids to do with it?” said a fat man.
“I’m sure I don’t know. Best way to find out is to ask ’em,” says President James. “What are you here for, boys?”
“To fight,” says Mark, just like that.
“Fight, eh? What for?”
“First for the p-p-principle of the thing, and then for our rights,” says Mark.
“What principle, son?”
“Decent b-b-business,” says Mark.
“Um!... Decent business! What’s your name, young man? And why do you mention a principle ahead of your rights?”