"Charlie! Come!"

It was Aunt Stanshy calling. Tony and Juggie now moved off, and Charlie
went into the house with a heavy heart.

"What _is_ the matter, Charles Pitt Macomber?"

"Club has broken up," and Charlie's lips quivered.

"Mad?"

Charlie did not speak, but moved his head up and down like a saw.

"Who? Sid, Rick, Wort, Pip?"

Each time the saw went up and down.

"Are you mad?"

"I was, but I am not now."

"I'm sorry. I guess it's a pretty bad case, and the club has all gone to
splinters."

The club in splinters! All that day the chamber was deserted. It was
forsaken the next bright summer day. A mouse came out of his hole, and,
looking timidly about, gave a faint, surprised squeak. The flies buzzed in
the sunshine, and had all the time they wished to hum through their tunes.
The only other noise was the wind that murmured about the door and the
window that Aunt Stanshy had closed up so resolutely.