and had brass buttons sewn on their blue serge coats.
"Howdy," said Berwin, a man with a bald head and serious eyes. "Hear you've bought a cottage, Jarrod. Want to join our Club?"
"I'd like to," the lawyer replied, hesitating; "but I've—"
"Ten dollars, please. That's the price for season membership."
Jarrod paid it.
"But I've got no sail-boat," said he.
"That's all right," observed Stakes, a little fellow with a peppery and pugnacious countenance. "None of the crowd upstairs owns a sail-boat, but they're all club members, just the same. We four—Homperton, Berwin, Diller and myself—own boats, and we're the yacht club in reality. We built this shop on credit, and run it ourselves, but we let the folks upstairs support it by paying ten dollars a year. It pleases 'em to be members of a yacht club, you know, and helps
