“We’d better choose Saturday because there is no school to interfere,” suggested Una.
“And spoil the one holiday in the week,” cried Faith. “Not much! No, let’s take Friday. That’s fish day, anyhow, and we all hate fish. We may as well have all the disagreeable things in one day. Then other days we can go ahead and have a good time.”
“Nonsense,” said Jerry authoritatively. “Such a scheme wouldn’t work at all. We’ll just punish ourselves as we go along and keep a clear slate. Now, we all understand, don’t we? This is a Good-Conduct Club, for the purpose of bringing ourselves up. We agree to punish ourselves for bad conduct, and always to stop before we do anything, no matter what, and ask ourselves if it is likely to hurt dad in any way, and any one who shirks is to be cast out of the club and never allowed to play with the rest of us in Rainbow Valley again. Jem Blythe to be umpire in case of disputes. No more taking bugs to Sunday School, Carl, and no more chewing gum in public, if you please, Miss Faith.”
“No more making fun of elders praying or going to the Methodist prayer meeting,” retorted Faith.
“Why, it isn’t any harm to go to the Methodist prayer meeting,” protested Jerry in amazement.
“Mrs. Elliott says it is, She says manse children have no business to go anywhere but to Presbyterian things.”
“Darn it, I won’t give up going to the Methodist prayer meeting,” cried Jerry. “It’s ten times more fun than ours is.”
“You said a naughty word,” cried Faith. “Now, you’ve got to punish yourself.”
“Not till it’s all down in black and white. We’re only talking the club over. It isn’t really formed until we’ve written it out and signed it. There’s got to be a constitution and by-laws. And you know there’s nothing wrong in going to a prayer meeting.”
“But it’s not only the wrong things we’re to punish ourselves for, but anything that might hurt father.”