At last the president said:
"Well, we'll just have to pay him; there is no help for it. Every one of the club must hand over twenty-six cents for his share. Here's another thing we didn't plan for in the strawberry idea. For my part, I wish 'Fragi Agrestes' had never been invented."
The club marched that very afternoon, in a body, to Mr. Clay's house to pay their bill. No willing delegate was found to represent them. Once there, the president had to make the speech.
"We've brought you your money, Mr. Clay. We can't imagine how you found us out; but we hadn't the least notion of stealing! Somehow it never entered our heads that it could be stealing, to help ourselves to wild strawberries. I never thought of such a thing until I saw your bill. There it is. Will you please receipt it? And we'll promise you we won't be likely to get caught in such a scrape again."
"Thank you," said the farmer, putting the money in his pocket, and taking up a pen to receipt the bill. "Boys, I'm not so anxious for money that I had to have my pay for the berries you stole. But I thought it would teach you a lesson; so I sent the bill to the treasurer. And now I want to advise you to take a new name for your club, for you won't prosper under the present one. When you aren't planning to do anything but have fun, you'll get into mischief.
Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
Change your name to the Do-Something Club, and you'll not regret it."
"I'm agreed," said Will; "and I'll resign. I have an idea. Suppose you be our president, Mr. Clay?"
"I!" laughed the farmer.
"Good for you, Will," said the boys. "That's a first-class idea. Will you do it, Mr. Clay?"