"Here's Miss Sawyer! and if she ain't walkin' with that gossipy old bach', Sam Billin's. I thought she was awful perticler about the company she kept."
"I dare say their meeting was purely casual," observed Mrs. Flint.
"Most prob'ly," said Mrs. Stout, "but you know how folks will talk."
Mrs. Flint did know, furthermore, she thought, that some folks talked more than others. Their conversation came to an end upon the entrance of Miss Sawyer, and the arrival of several other ladies in rapid succession. Among them was Mrs. Tweedie, who had Mrs. Doctor Jones in tow. Mrs. Jones was a meek little woman with a mind as changeable as a weather-vane, but she was a patient, willing worker, one of the sort always to be found washing dishes after a supper at the church long after her more brilliant sisters had gone home. Mrs. Tweedie always made friends of such women; they were useful, and seldom caused trouble. Another of the new members was Mrs. Deacon Walton, who lived on the edge of the town—"in the country," some of the village ladies said. Mrs. Walton was not sure that membership in a woman's club would be pleasing, proper, or profitable, but was willing to try it.
The ladies were all well acquainted, and immediately began talking in a delightfully happy manner. As the number increased, so did the chatter, which soon resembled the sounds of a bird store. Mrs. Tweedie, for a long time silent and thoughtful, gazed upon the gathering with pride. Success such as she had never dreamed of was within her grasp. Every woman who had been invited to come was present—wives of the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, all were there, and at the signal for silence stopped talking and looked expectantly at their leader. Mrs. Tweedie looked over the assemblage gravely and leisurely before beginning to speak.
"Ladies of The Morning Glory Club," she began, "the founders of our organization would be indeed ungrateful if they did not appreciate the generous response to their appeal by so many of the first ladies of our town. We thank you, and, I must add, hope that you will concur with us in what has been done at a previous meeting. The records of the last meeting will be read by our secretary."
Miss Sawyer timidly complied with the president's request, reading from a neatly written manuscript of daintily tinted and perfumed notepaper, the sheets of which were fastened together by a pale green ribbon. When Miss Sawyer had finished, the committee on rules presented their report in the form of a constitution and by-laws, which were accepted without debate. Then Mrs. Tweedie suggested that committees on ethics, art, literature, and the Lord knows what, be appointed. It was done. Everything that Mrs. Tweedie desired came to pass. She was in the clouds; never, even in her dreams, had she thought such power possible.
For an hour the meeting progressed, and during that time Mrs. Stout, for some unfathomable reason, remained silent. When she did rise to speak, she addressed the chair in such a perfectly proper manner that, for a moment, the ladies thought that by some strange process she had become civilized.
"Ladies," she said, "I'm treasurer of this club, and I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' since our last meetin'. We've got to have some money, and it'll take for ever and a day for dues at ten cents a month to amount to anything. We've got to run some kind of a show to raise money. This ethical and e-comical business is all right, but what we want now is dollars!"