you," observed Ed, whose friend was a fine scholar, and he very
proud of the fact.

"Look here, if you fellows keep interrupting, I won't sit down for
half an hour," said Joe, well knowing that eloquence was not his
gift, but bound to have his say out.

Deep silence reigned, for that threat quelled the most impatient
member, and Joe prosed on, using all the arguments he had ever
heard, and paying off several old scores by sly hits of a personal
nature, as older orators often do.

"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