“The unfortunate mortal upon whom you will all practice.”
“I should like to begin by subjecting you to the law of gravity,” exclaimed Gilbert.
“Never fear,” said Margaret. “Time will bring gravity soon enough, and Elsie can’t throw stones at us without endangering her own enthusiasms. Her next new dish will be our opportunity, Gilbert.”
“Unless I put a guard over it.”
“Will the meeting please come to order?” said Margaret soberly. Elsie subsided into her corner and Antoine lay back among his cushions, and listened with interest to Margaret’s statement of the purposes of the little home club. “The first part of our plan is to develop thought, and we have decided that such thought must come to us in response to our daily needs or grow out of our daily work. We therefore expect each member to bring what we will call a blossom for the wreath of every-day living; this blossom may be perhaps a wayside weed or a cherished bloom of some inner chamber of the heart. Nothing is too small or simple for this wreath, so that out of it we may extract some consolation, hope, or purpose. Upon these thoughts that are thrown together, and which shall be kept in a record book, will depend the evening’s reading. In this way we think the demands of our mental and moral needs will be best satisfied. Elsie, what have you to offer?”
The mischief had apparently died out of Elsie’s face as she answered: “A good many things have come to me to-day; but the most pronounced thought has been the despair of enthusiasm and the futility of the most earnest effort. I burned with the desire of a Francatelli to achieve an omelette; but having no eggs the earnestness of purpose failed me.”
A ripple of laughter greeted Elsie’s announcement.
“Wanted,” exclaimed Gilbert, “a new invention for making hens lay; otherwise the foundation of our castle in Spain will not be equal to its walls.”
“Now, Antoine,” said Margaret, “let us hear from you.”
“The day has been good to me,” replied the lad, “for in it I have learned how sweet it is to hope.”