. . . gotta pick out some poor mutts that don't know how to hold their end up and sock anyone who jumps on 'em. Then they're your Gang. Pip-Emma knew on sight that Janet couldn't hold her end up to save her neck, and that sooner or later she, Pip-Emma, would have to sock the fat girl in the eye.

Clara VanSittart did not know this. She sat next to Emma Binns in the Pullman, determined, without heat or anger, to explain Social Usages and Camp Customs. But Pip-Emma did not seem to want to listen. From her middy pocket she had produced three small sea shells and a tiny flexible rubber ball, and she was doing things with them on the back of her suitcase. It was Mr. Binns' favorite method of getting himself a free drink, and Pip-Emma was no slouch herself. Also if you're getting a Gang, you don't run after it. You let it come to you. If kids saw you up to something they didn't understand, they flocked round like a bunch of hungry sparrows. Gradually the Penguin. . . Read More