“We will, we will,” said Nan. “Just remember, Daisy, that two and two make four, and then go ahead. Now I’m going to begin our Journal. I brought a grand and elegant new blank-book for the purpose. We must write something in it every day, and we’ll keep it here on the table where anyone can write a page when she feels disposed. What shall we call it? What’s the name of this cottage, Marjorie?”
“Oh, father calls it Fair View, but I don’t think that’s much of a name. Let’s christen it for ourselves.”
“Call it Liberty Hall,” said Jessie, “because we’re going to do just as we like all the time we’re here.”
“Too hackneyed,” returned Betty. “Let’s call it Hilarity Hall, because we’re going to have lots of fun here.”
So Hilarity Hall it was, and Nan printed it in big letters on the fly-leaf of her book. Then she began to scribble, and the others leaned over her shoulder and knelt at her side, and helped and suggested and amended, until the first instalment of the Journal stood thus, and Nan read it aloud, amid a fire of running comment:
“A SEPTEMBER SESSION OF THE BLUE RIBBON COOKING CLUB
“Hilarity Hall, Blue Beach,
September 21.
“The entire club left Middleton on the twelve-ten train. The Wandering Minstrel [that’s you, Helen] and the Poet [that’s me], musing on higher things, strayed into the smoking-car, from which they were summarily ejected by the brakeman. Except for an ill-behaved cuckoo, who gave his unsolicited and also incorrect opinion as to the time of day, the club behaved itself with dignity and decorum.
“Here, you see, it drops into verse: