“What are you doing?” queried Sam. He moved nearer to Poke, and glanced curiously at the board. It had borne, in bold lettering:
Adelphi Club
Rules and By-laws.
Now, however, there was only a chalky smear to show where the lines had been. “What are you doing?” he repeated. “Say, you’ve spoiled it!”
“Huh! This club needs a new name,” growled Poke. “I’m trying to think of one that’ll fit.”
Sam wheeled and addressed the youth in the chair. “Step, what ails him? What ails you? What’s the matter, anyway?”
Step clasped his hands about his knees. “What ails us? Guess you wouldn’t be asking if you knew!”
“Course I wouldn’t!” Sam agreed rather testily to what might be called a fairly self-evident proposition.
“Hang the luck!” groaned the doleful Step.
Poke whipped about. “Confound it, but there’s more than luck!” he cried. “You’re letting us off too easy, Step. Oh, I know—I know what you’d say! We didn’t mean to have it happen, but it did happen; so what’s the use in talking? And it was just like a lot of other things that keep happening to us, and will keep on happening till we have more sense.”
“Huh!” came from the depths of the chair.