“It is clear to my mind that boys would get on better without any girls fooling round.  As for their being as smart as we are, it is all nonsense, for some of ’em cry over their lessons every day, or go home with headaches, or get mad and scold all recess, because something ‘isn’t fair.’  No, sir; girls ain’t meant to know much, and they can’t.  Wise folks say so and I believe ’em.  Haven’t got any sisters myself, and I don’t want any, for they don’t seem to amount to much, according to those who do have ’em.”

Groans from Gus and Ed greeted the closing remarks of the ungallant Joe, who sat down, feeling that he had made somebody squirm.  Up jumped Grif, the delight of whose life was practical jokes, which amiable weakness made him the terror of the girls, though they had no other fault to find with the merry lad.

“Mr. Chairman, the ground I take is this:  girls have not the strength to go to college with us.  They couldn’t row a race, go on a lark, or take care of themselves, as we do.  They are all well enough at home, and I like them at parties, but for real fun and go I wouldn’t give a cent for them,” began Grif, whose views of a collegiate life were confined to the enjoyments rather than the studies of that festive period.  “I have tried them, and they can’t stand anything.  They scream if you tell them there is a mouse in the room, and run if they see a big dog.  I just put a cockroach in Molly’s desk one day, and when she opened it she jumped as if she was shot.”

So did the gentlemen of the club, for at that moment half-a-dozen fire-crackers exploded under the chair Grif had left, and flew wildly about the room.  Order was with difficulty restored, the mischievous party summarily chastised and commanded to hold his tongue, under penalty of ejectment from the room if he spoke again.  Firmly grasping that red and unruly member, Grif composed himself to listen, with his nose in the air and his eyes shining like black beads.

Ed was always the peace-maker, and now, when he rose with his engaging smile, his voice fell like oil upon the troubled waters, and his bright face was full of the becoming bashfulness which afflicts youths of seventeen when touching upon such subjects of newly acquired interest as girls and their pleasant but perplexing ways.

“It seems to me we have hardly considered the matter enough to be able to say much.  But I think that school would be awfully dry and dismal without—­ahem!—­any young ladies to make it nice.  I wouldn’t give a pin to go if there was only a crowd of fellows, though I like a good game as well as any man.  I pity any boy who has no sisters,” continued Ed, warming up as he thought of his own, who loved him dearly, as well they might, for a better brother never lived.  “Home wouldn’t be worth having without them to look after a fellow, to keep him out of scrapes, help him with his lessons, and make things jolly for his friends.  I tell you we can’t do without girls, and I’m not ashamed to say that I think the more we see of them, and try to be like them in many ways, the better men we shall be by and by.”