the going-to club had only one member. bobby brant was that member. in fact, bobby was the club.

it was his mother who named him the going-to club. it always took at least two askings to get bobby to do anything. sometimes it took three or four. bobby was always "going to."

this club always met when there was something bobby wanted particularly to do; and it met most often in the spring, when the boys were out flying their kites. in the spring nobody could get bobby to do anything.

one spring bobby had a very fine new kite that he and his father had made together. they named it the skylark, because they thought it would fly higher than any of the other kites. but something was wrong. instead of sailing up gracefully, as it should, the first time bobby tried to fly it, the skylark pitched about so violently that bobby had to wind it in.

just then he heard mary jane calling, "bobby, will you get me some water?"

"all right," cried bobby. "i wonder what ails it," he added, as he turned the kite about.

"bob-by-y!"

"i'm going to," answered the going-to club impatiently, and straightway forgot all about it.

pretty soon mary jane came down the path with the water pail. mary jane had little brothers. perhaps she could tell what was the matter.

"mary jane," said bobby, "my kite won't fly straight. will you help me fix it?"

a naughty twinkle came into mary jane's eyes. "all right, bobby," she said, and went on to the well.

"will you?" urged bobby, as she came back with her pail full.

"i'm going to, bobby."

bobby followed mary jane to the house.

"mary jane——"

mary jane set down the pail and went on with her washing. "i'm going to," she promised.

rub-a-dub! rub-a-dub! rub-a-dub! went the clothes.

"mary jane——"

and this time mary jane dried her hands and picked up the kite.

"tail's too long," she said. "and, by the way, bobby," she added with a laugh, "what do you think about the going-to club now?"

bobby grinned and hung his head.