"Sam said that you were going to form a club," he began, by way of explanation; "so I thought I'd drop in,—all proceedings over?"
"Yes," replied Bob, pleasantly. But he did not evince any desire to supply his visitor with information.
"From what Sam said, I wouldn't mind joining, myself," pursued Nat, coolly, and evidently enjoying the embarrassed looks of the boys. "It's a good idea."
There was an interval of silence. Then Bob spoke up. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said, quietly, "but it's just a little club that the five of us have formed among ourselves."
"Would one more do any harm?"
"No, only that—"
"Only that you don't want me, eh?"
Nat Wingate's eyes flashed, but his voice betrayed no feeling of anger. He seated himself on an empty box, and continued, with extraordinary coolness: "I shouldn't think that it would make any difference whether there were five or six members in the club."
The others understood Nat's nature well enough to know that he was really amusing himself at their expense. When thwarted in anything, he had a way of making it so unpleasant for those who were responsible that his wishes were often regarded in order to avoid trouble.
But the members of the Rambler Club did not wish to have among them a strife-making spirit, and they firmly but politely declined all overtures.