There was not much to tell, she said stiffly, and nothing to see.
The girls just paid their sixpence a week, and the number of members, of course, had to tally with the value of what they wanted.
Hers was a boot-club, and, as coster girls are notoriously fastidious about the quality of their boots, seven-and-six and eight-and-six is the price aimed at, so she had fifteen members just now, and a friend of hers had seventeen.
They were strictly honourable, and always “stood up” to what they had undertaken, even though they might find it a tax to produce the weekly subscription regularly; and when a girl had secured the article for which she had joined the club, she never by any chance “cried off,” but went on paying till all the members were supplied.
Of course it was not everyone who could be admitted to these privileges, and, as a rule, strangers were not particularly welcomed unless well vouched for by an old member, as there was always the chance of their being winners early and then “crying off” the rest of their subscription.
The club was mainly composed of friends who rarely met at the “club-holder’s,” except on the occasion of the weekly draw.
Of course, if a girl could spare the money, there was no objection to her buying two tickets, thus enjoying two chances and also helping to hasten matters, and there had been cases where the members, hearing that one of their old “chums” (or “pals,” as they call it) was in sore want, voluntarily kept the club going another week, and then handed it all over to her, with the club-holder’s consent, of course.
The usual method was to put fifteen pieces of paper in a bag, on one being written the number of weeks the club was old, and the member who drew out the marked paper was able to buy the boots that week, and so on.
“Then it really is a lottery!” I remarked meditatively.