“Come into the sitting-room, boys.  Glad to see you.  Well!”

Her air said:  “I wonder what brought my class in a body to me,” something was evidently on the minds of all.  The president quickly dissipated the mystery.

“We—­we—­” said Sid, trying to catch his breath, “have—­formed a—­club—­and—­want—­you—­to name it.”

“Yes! yes! yes!” was the chorus coming from the eager faces turned up to Miss Bertha.

“Name a club?  Dear me!  What shall I tell you?  Where is your club?”

“Here!” said Sid, looking round in pride.

“No; I mean, where do you hold your meetings?”

“In my barn,” said Charlie.  “You go in from the street and go up some stairs.  It’s up stairs.”

“You might go up higher,” added the governor.  “There’s a ladder there, so you can get up—­up in the cupelo, but you wont want to go up there.”

“Why, that suggests a name.  It’s a little odd, but you’ll think of it every time you go up stairs and see the ladder.  Call it ’Up-the-Ladder Club,’ and then it will have a meaning that you are boys who mean to do your best, climbing up always, up, up, up!”

Miss Bertha here reached as high as she could, and her admirers, with sparkling eyes, stretched upward their small arms, also, shouting, “Up-the-Ladder Club!  Up-the-Ladder Club!”

“I’ll put it to vote, teacher,” said the president, with dignity.  “Those in favor of it, say ‘Aye.’”

A ringing “Aye” was now given, and after it, came a sharp-featured, wrinkled face at the door.

“Land’s sake, Bertha, what’s the matter?”

“O it’s only my class, grandmother.”

“It scat me dreadfully.  I thought it was fire,” and, saying this, the old lady, with a sigh of relief, withdrew.

“And now, teacher, we want a badge; something to wear, you know,” exclaimed Sid.

“What’s that you have on?” Miss Bertha asked of Juggie.

“A sword,” replied that warrior, displaying his right leg, on which he had already chalked a sword.

“That’s for the down-townies,” said the governor, in a martial tone.

“I’m—­afraid—­the ‘down-townies’ will laugh at that; are not you?”

The club had only thought of what they might do to the “down-townies,” not at all of what the latter would do to them.  They certainly had not given a thought to any ridicule these old enemies might heap upon them.  A sadden chill now struck the sword-plan and it went down in the boys’ estimation like the mercury in the glass on a cold day.

“Now, I don’t want my class to be sword-boys.  I can’t say I fancy the idea.  I will tell you something that I think will be nice, and I will make the badge.”

Here the mercury began to climb the glass again, and that chilled look in the boys’ faces began to thaw out.

“I will make you—­each one of you—­a pretty white shield, to be worn on the left arm, make it of pasteboard, so it will be stiff, and then cover it nicely with white silk.”