“I do not, and anyway those rules aren’t half so funny as the real ones that you made up first,” interpolated Mary sweetly.
“Well, I’ve forgotten the real ones. Anyway, we don’t need Perfect Patrons nowadays as much as we did when we were young and poor, instead of prosperous and almost too elegant. So suppose we attend to the organization of the B. C. A.’s.”
“Is that a society, too?” demanded Helen the practical.
“No, it’s a cult,” explained Madeline curtly.
“What’s a cult?”
“What does it stand for?”
“We’re all ‘Merry Hearts.’ What’s the use of any more clubs?”
Madeline met the avalanche of questions calmly.
“A cult is a highly exclusive club—nothing vulgar and common about a cult, like the Perfect Patrons’ Society, with its crowded membership list. As for the B. C. A. part, you can take a turn at guessing that. If any one gets it right we shall know that it’s too easy and that we’d better change to Greek letters or something. When you’ve guessed what it’s the cult of, of course you’ll understand the object of organizing it.”
“Very lucid indeed,” said Christy solemnly.