"Yours in good fellowship, "THE VILLAGE IMP. SOCIETY." "That's a good business one," said Dick. "Sort of 'man to man,' you know." "I don't like it as well as some of the others," said Marjorie. "You copy that, Dick, and I'll copy the 'lovingly' one." Each took a model, and all set to work, except Kitty and Dorothy, who were exempt, as their penmanship was not very legible. "I'm tired," announced Dick, after an hour's work. "Let's stop where we are." "All right," said King. "We've enough for the first week, I think. If these work pretty good, we'll do more next Saturday." They had sixteen letters altogether, addressed to the best and worst citizens of Rockwell, and in high glee they started to the post-office to buy their stamps. Mrs. Maynard willingly gave permission for them to go the short distance to the post-office, and watched the six well-behaved children as they walked off, two by two. After the stamps were bought, and the letters posted, they found they still had enough in the treasury for soda water all round, lacking two cents. King generously supplied the deficit, and the six trooped into the drug store, and each selected a favorite flavor. The club meeting broke up after that, and the children went to their homes, feeling that they had greatly gained in importance since morning. And indeed they had. That same evening many of the Rockwell people strolled down to the post-office for their mail. In the small town there were no carriers, and the short trip to the post-office was deemed a pleasure by most. When Mr. Maynard arrived he was surprised to find men gathered into small groups, talking in loud and almost angry voices. The pretty little stone building was not large enough to hold them all, and knots of people were on the steps and on the small grass plot in front. "It's outrageous!" one man was saying. "I never heard of such impudence in a civilized town!" "Here comes Mr. Maynard now," said another, "let's ask him." Mr. Maynard smiled pleasantly as the belligerent ones approached him. They were men whom he knew by name, but they were not of his own social circle. "Look here," said John Kellogg, "I've just got this 'ere note, and some kid yonder says it's the handwritin' of your son, and I want ter know ef that's so!" "It certainly looks like my son's writing," said Mr. Maynard, still smiling pleasantly, though his heart sank as he wondered what those children had been up to now. CHAPTER XV DISTURBED CITIZENS "And I've got one that my boy says is in Dick Fulton's writin'!" declared another angry citizen. "Here comes Dick's father now," said Mr. Maynard, as he advanced a step to meet Mr. Fulton. "They tell me our sons have been writing miscellaneous letters," he said to Mr. Fulton, and, though there was a twinkle in his eye, Mr. Fulton saw at once that there was some serious matter in hand.