At Christmas and at odd seasons, when the necessary talent can be secured, entertainments are given in the club-room. Sometimes the boys themselves furnish the entertainment, and then there is never a lack of critics in the audience. There never is, for that matter. Mr. Evert Jansen Wendell, who has been one of the boys' best friends, tells some amusing things about his experience at such gatherings. Ice-cream is always intensely popular as a side issue. Some of the boys never fail to wrap a piece up in paper, or put it in the pocket without wrapping, to take home to the baby sister or brother. Only one, to Mr. Wendell's knowledge, ever refused ice-cream at an entertainment, and he explained, by way of apology, that he had had the colic all day and his mother had told him "she'd lick him if he took any." For a dignified missionary, who in telling the boys about the spread of the Gospel in the Far East, proposed to illustrate heathen customs by arraying himself in native costumes, brought along for the purpose, it must have been embarrassing to a degree to be cautioned by the audience to "keep his shirt on." But his mishap was as nothing to what befell a young lady, the daughter of a wealthy and distinguished financier, who with infinite trouble had persuaded her father to assist at a certain festive occasion in her favorite club. He was an amateur with the magic lantern, the boys' dear delight, and took it down to amuse them. Mr. Wendell tells what followed: The show was progressing famously, and the daughter was beaming with pride, when one of the boys suddenly beckoned to her, and pointing to the distinguished financier remarked: "What der yer call dat bloke?" "Whom do you mean?" asked the proud daughter, in a tone of much surprise, being quite unaccustomed to hearing the distinguished financier described as a "bloke." "I mean dat bloke over dere, settin' off dem picturs!" replied the boy. "What do you desire to know about him?" inquired the proud daughter, with freezing dignity. "I want ter know what yer call one of them fellers dat sets off picturs?" persisted the boy. "That gentleman," said the proud daughter, in her most impressive tone, "is my father." "Well!" said the boy, surveying her with supreme contempt, "don't yer know yer own father's trade?"