When the workers returned with benumbed fingers and ice-coated boots it was evident that their attitude toward the offending juniors was to be one of silent contempt. Bert, Lanny, Small and Kid were absolutely ignored by all save Cupples and Crandall, who, so far, observed a difficult neutrality. During study hour Bert and Ben sat at opposite sides of the green-topped table and exchanged never a word, Bert deciding ruefully toward the end of the evening that much of that sort of thing would probably become very tiresome.
In the morning the revolutionists gained a convert. The convert was Nan. Nan was greatly excited and very enthusiastic. And she assured Bert and Lanny, who had gone out after breakfast to slide down the short coast afforded by the sloping driveway, that she was heart and soul with the Cause. They must never give in, she declared. She also said many other things about Tyranny, the Despot’s Heel, Right and Justice and Suffering for a Principle. The latter phrase misled Lanny until Nan explained that she was not referring to her father. Her words sounded very fine and the two boys were quite heartened. They had not thought of the thing as a Cause before and now Lanny began to look quite noble and heroic, or as noble and heroic as it is possible to look with a green plaid Mackinaw jacket and ear-muffs.
“What you must do, though,” continued Nan, sinking her voice to a sort of frozen whisper, “is to form a Society!”
“What sort of a society?” asked Bert.
“Why, a—a Society for Mutual Help and Protection.”
“Oh!” murmured Lanny, much impressed. “How would you do it?”
“Just—just do it, silly! I tell you what; come to the stable after morning school and organize. And meanwhile I’ll think up a good name for the Society. You must bring Small and Kid, too, you know. And you must have a password and—and a grip.”
“We’ll have the grippe all right if we sit around the stable long,” said Lanny. “It’s as cold in there as—as——”
“A barn,” suggested Bert. “All right, we’ll be there, Miss Merton, right after school.”