“What is it, Miss Bess?” inquired Phil, swinging himself impatiently back and forth in his rocking-chair, as he sat astride of it, with an ankle clasped in either hand. “It’s sure to be fun, if you start it.”
“Don’t get your expectations too high, Phil,” said Bess. “It is only just this. If you boys have time enough to spare for it, how would you like to spend one evening a week with me?”
“Club?” suggested Rob, who had often begged for something of this kind.
“Yes, club; if you choose to call it so.” And there was an enthusiastic burst of applause from the boys, who took a true masculine delight in anything rejoicing in the name of club. When quiet was restored, Bess went on quite seriously:—
“Now, my boys, I don’t want you to be selfish in starting this club. It is for us all to enjoy together, and I want you to help me make it a great success; but most of all it is for Fred. He tries so hard not to be shy with you, but it is hard for him when he doesn’t see you but once in a long time. He needs boys
