“I’m—afraid—the ‘down-townies’ will laugh at that; are not you?”
The club had only thought of what they might do to the “down-townies,” not at all of what the latter would do to them. They certainly had not given a thought to any ridicule these old enemies might heap upon them. A sadden chill now struck the sword-plan and it went down in the boys’ estimation like the mercury in the glass on a cold day.
“Now, I don’t want my class to be sword-boys. I can’t say I fancy the idea. I will tell you something that I think will be nice, and I will make the badge.”
Here the mercury began to climb the glass again, and that chilled look in the boys’ faces began to thaw out.
“I will make you—each one of you—a pretty white shield, to be worn on the left arm, make it of pasteboard, so it will be stiff, and then cover it nicely with white silk.”
The boys began to hurrah. The mercury was away up the glass now.
“A white shield, that will mean something. That means purity, honesty, every thing good and fair, and that your beautiful white shield will be your defense against harm. You are my knights of the white shield.”
The applause following this was almost tumultuous.
“You are the Up-the-Ladder Club, that is, boys who are always going ahead in every thing good; climbing up, not lazy or bad, but boys, with an ambition—a true Up-the-Ladder Club—”
“Or,” suggested Sid, impressively, “the Knights of the White Shield.”