“Now what do you think of this?” he exclaimed with tragic horror. “Professor Robison, the world renowned mind reader (though I never heard of him before), owing to his inability to arrive, will not be able to be present at the Girls’ Club song-fight to-night! Did you ever!”
“But it’s no laughing matter,” said Kate, following the introduction of her friends to Alex. “He was the feature of our program to-night, and I simply can’t see what we are going to do. Many of the people will be coming just to hear him.”
“Jack, couldn’t you help us out?” asked one of the other girls, half seriously. “You used to pretend you were a phrenologist and all that kind of thing at school, I remember.”
“No thanks, Mary. I’ve gotten over all that sort of foolishness,” Jack responded, expanding his chest and speaking in a deep voice. “I leave that for you younger folks.”
A small laughing riot followed this pompous declaration, and at its conclusion Jack carried Alex off to introduce him to his pigeons and chickens, and other former treasures of the back yard.
Some minutes later Jack was dilating on the rich under-color of his pet Buff Orpington hen, when Alex, with an apology, abruptly broke in. “Say, Jack, what kind of a crowd do they have at these Girls’ Club affairs? Very swell?”
“Well, about everyone in the church goes, and quite a few farmers usually come in from out of town. They are as ‘swell’ as anything we have here, I guess. The Sunday-school room is usually well filled. Why?”
“I was just wondering whether we couldn’t help the girls out, and have a little fun out of it into the bargain. Remember the soldiers on the train? Now, why couldn’t we,” and therewith Alex briefly sketched his plan. Jack promptly tossed the hen back into the coop. “Great, Al! We will! It will be all kinds of a lark. I think there is just the stuff we’ll need up in the garret.
“Come on; we’ll break the joyful tidings to the girls.”
“I’d rather you played the part, though,” said Alex as they returned toward the veranda. “You of course know everyone.”