Then Cleg, after the briefest opening exercises had been endured, explained that there remained for that evening only the ceremony of reception of a new member who had already been sworn in. In this Celie had to concur with as good a grace as possible. She was then and there appointed, with acclamation, a full member of the honourable (or dishonourable, according to the point of view) society of the Knuckle Dusters of the Sooth Back. It was generally felt after this, that Jacob (the Patriarch of that name) could very well afford to wait over for a little. But, after the ceremony, when Celie looked again at her class, she could hardly believe her eyes. Were these the lads who night after night had stood before her with faces sleeked and smugged with arrant hypocrisy, or had looked up at her after some bout of intolerable mischief, as demure as kittens after spilling a saucer of milk? A certain seriousness and comradeship pervaded the meeting. But Cleg was not yet at the end of his surprises. "I perpose," he said, "that we hae a Club a' for oorsels." The meeting with unanimous palm and hoof signified its approval of this grand proposal, obviously one which had been discussed before. "We will hae it in here, and we'll pay to be members—an' that will do for the coals, and we'll hae smokin'——" Celie sat aghast. Events were precipitating themselves with a vengeance. Indeed, surprise sat so manifest on her countenance that Cleg thought it wise to point out its genuine character to his brother members. It would never do for them to believe that the great idea of the club had not originated with themselves. "_She_ kens nocht aboot it, but I ken fine she's gaun to stan' in wi' us!" he explained, putting her, as it were, on her honour and under the solemn seal of the bloody cross of the Knuckle Dusters. In this Celie, bound by her oath, had indeed no choice. She must of a surety stand by them. But a serious difficulty occurred to her. "Lads," she said, "we have only the right to this place for one night in the week. How can we occupy it every night?" All the boys laughed loud. The question was mightily amusing. Indeed, Celie was often most amusing to them when she had no intention of being so. "Of coorse, we ken, ye hae only to ask _him_!" they said, with one solid voice of general concurrence. Celie felt herself beginning to burn low down on her neck, and it made her angry to think that in a minute more she would blush like a great baby just out of the senior class of the Ladies' College. The boys watched her maliciously till she looked really distressed, and then Cleg struck gallantly into the breach. "Chaps," he cried, "I think we should ask for oorsels. We are gaun to elec' a commy-tee and run the show. Dinna let us begin by troublin' Miss Tennant. We'll gang an' ask oorsels. Gin ye are feared, I'm no!" Crash! came a stone through the window. All leapt to their feet in a moment.