“And if you want to come in on the ground floor,” said Dick, “now’s your chance. If you wait you’ll have to pay a big price to join the Society.”
“What’s it called? The Society of Hopeless Idiots?”
“No, sir; it’s called the Ferry Hill Improvement Society,” replied Dick. “And its objects are to obtain a new dormitory, increased attendance, a new running track and a track team.”
“Is that all?” jeered Chub. “It sounds so easy I guess I’ll have to come in. You may put me down for president.”
“We’ll put you down for janitor, that’s what we’ll put you down for,” said Roy scathingly. “Dick shall be president.”
“I decline,” said Dick. “I nominate Miss Harry Emery, Esquire.”
“No, Roy must be president,” answered Harry, “and I’ll be secretary and treasurer, because I have more time than you fellows. And Dick must be vice-president, and Chub—”
“I’ll be referee.”
“No, you’ll be second vice-president.”