"Well, we only have a few minutes before the bell will ring: let's elect officers." So Will tore a few pages out of his note-book, and after some officers had been nominated, each one wrote the names of those he wanted, on his slip. The results were just being announced when the school-bell rang. "The first meeting of the Do-Nothing Club will be held in our yard to-morrow afternoon," called Will Post, who had been elected president of the new organization. So the next afternoon, immediately after school, ten boys wended their way through the back gate of Mr. Post's yard, and seated themselves on the woodpile. "I know where we will go," said Will, "right out in the orchard in the boughs of those two gnarly old apple-trees that just touch." Everyone thought this a splendid plan, so soon the ten boys were in different places in the two great apple-trees in the orchard. "Has any one a suggestion to make as to the first adventure of the Do-Nothing Club?" said the president, by way of opening the meeting. "I have," said George Shaw, the treasurer of the club. "You know Mr. Clay's pasture?" "Yes!" they all said. "Well, it's just chock-full of daisies and wild strawberries, and I move that next Saturday we ask him if we can get some daisies, and each take a big basket and get it most full of strawberries with a few daisies on top, to make it look all right, you know;" and George chuckled. "I think it is a splendid plan, worthy of our honorable treasurer," said President Post. A vote was taken, which was almost unanimous in favor of George's proposition, although there were a few demurs made at first on the ground of it's not being "quite honest." "Honest!" sneered Will, "as if it wasn't all right to refresh ourselves in a big meadow, with what's there, free as grass!" So the objections were silenced, and the meeting adjourned. Now it so happened that Mr. Post's orchard and Mr. Clay's farm were only separated by a high board fence. Close by this fence grew quite a little coarse grass, and as Mr. Clay thought it took too much room, on this very afternoon on which the Do-Nothing Club held their first meeting, he had taken his scythe and spade, and had gone to cut and dig up the offending material. The day was very hot, and he grew so tired and warm that he determined to lie down in the shade by the fence for a few minutes. But while lying there, he fell into a little doze, and was only awakened by the laughter of the boys as they climbed up the trees, getting seated for the meeting. He lay awake for a few moments, trying to make up his mind to arise, and consequently heard the conversation in the apple-tree, in which he became not a little interested. Just here I must stop and explain that Mr. Clay knew his meadow was very productive of wild strawberries, and had said to his son, a few days before the time at which my story begins: