“Yes, yes!”
“There ought to be a sentinel,” said Sid; “one, you know, to look after the door and not let any down-townies up. Will you, Juggie?”
“Yes,” replied that man of war, Jugurtha Bonaparte Jones.
“Billy’s got nothing,” said Juggie.
“So he hasn’t,” said Gov. Grimes. “We ought to have a secretary, to put up notices and soon.”
“Billy shall be that,” declared the president. As Billy was backward in his studies and could not write, his office promised to be one of great honor and no duties. Every body had been pat into office except one, shy, silent, little olive-face, Tony. He was contented to be an unnoticed flower in the field. Charlie was the first to detect it, and whispered to Sid, “Tony hasn’t got nothing.”
It was felt to be a very small kind of a club that had not an office for every member, and Tony was made assistant-sentinel. The club was in raptures, every body in office!
“What shall be the name of the club?” asked the president. This was followed by a long discussion. Earth and sky were searched for a name.
“Call it Star Club,” said Billy.
“No, that aint bright enough,” replied the governor. The titles “Sun,” “Moon,” and “Comet” were successively rejected. “Let’s ask teacher,” chirped little Pip. The idea took, and it was resolved to visit “teacher” as soon as the club had been manufactured.