“I am so glad you care so much for the club,” said the president. “I gave up a luncheon at my mother-in-law’s, in order to come, myself. I wanted awfully to go—all the other guests were lovely old ladies—perfect walking encyclopædias on the subject of servants, and the proper time to hunt moths or cut first teeth.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, dear,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “Tom’s mother sent you a message by me that she had put the luncheon off until Friday because you were so disappointed at your inability to be present.”
“Well, if she expects me to waste a whole morning on those old frumps, she is very much mistaken, that is all. And you are no true friend of mine, or you would have told her I had an engagement for that day, too!”
“Humph! You seem to forget that I am afraid of her, too. She was my old Sunday-school teacher, and she would as lief be disagreeable to me as to you. Besides, it is not as if Tom had no unmarried brothers. One has to consider her feelings, you know, and—”
“Very true, dear. You always were charitable, Emily—I can just as well go to bed with a cold on Friday. Well, I fear we must adjourn now. What a profitable meeting we have had! I only wish Dorothy could have heard some of the arguments that—”
“Yes, indeed, Dorothy needs all of the good sense she can possibly obtain in any form,” murmured the brown-eyed blonde.
“Not now that she is about to be married, dear,” said the girl with the dimple in her chin. “However, I am sure that nothing save death or a boil on her chin will ever keep her away from another meeting. She says she considers the founding of this club her life work.”
“And a noble one, too,” said the president, warmly. “Well, if ever a girl entered upon matrimony with bright prospects, she is that one. I verily believe she could make Jack Bittersweet do anything she wanted, whether he liked or not!”
“At any rate, she has begun well,” said the brown-eyed blonde, sweetly.
When the girl with the dimple in her chin reached the blue-eyed girl’s home, she ran up the stairs to her friend’s room, two steps at a time, and burst open the door. That young person was discovered, radiant with smiles in spite of the traces of recent tears; she was seated at her desk, and the waste basket was overflowing with crumpled sheets of her best note paper.