“How old is your friend?” was the next question.
“I’m ten next month,” replied the little fellow.
“What’s your name?” asked Ned.
“Tuck. That is what everyone calls me, but the name they gave me when I was too little to know better, was awful—it’s Reuben Wales. Just because my great grandfather had it, they made me take it, too.” And poor little Tuck felt very much abused.
“Never mind, Tuck,” laughed Ned, while the other boys rolled over in the grass to smother their laughter.
“I don’t most of the time, but when someone has to know the real end of my name, I feel dreadful about it.”
“Well, Tuck, we are planning a club for you boys and you can choose a new name if you join,” consoled Jinks.
“What’s the game, Jinks?” asked Don, eagerly.
“We hope to form an organization for boys under twelve to be known as Bobolink Boys,” explained Meredith.
“What for—to build nests and then sew doll clothes, or make paper furniture?” growled Don, who had been greatly offended to think that his twin sister Dot would leave him for the Blue Birds.