“No, I was just thinking about next year,” Hoop assured her. “We never make more than one raid a year.”
“You will please,” Spud admonished Cal, “not throw your cores on the club house floor. Toss them out on the gravel. They look much better there.”
“Oh, let’s call this a club!” cried Molly eagerly.
“Right,” Ned agreed. “The Woodshed Club.”
“The Apple Club would be better,” suggested Clara.
“No; let me see.” Sandy frowned thoughtfully. “What kind of apples are these we’ve been eating, Molly?”
“Newtown Pippins,” answered Molly.
“There you have it, then; the Pippin Club!”
“Dandy,” said The Fungus. “We’re the Nine Pippins.”