“Girls,” exclaimed Adele, “our club is now the happy possessor of a secretary and a treasurer, but it has neither a name nor a president!”
Peggy Pierce was on her feet in an instant, exclaiming, “There is only one among us who could be our president, and she is”—“Adele Doring!” the five others shouted in enthusiastic chorus.
“You see,” laughed Peggy, as she resumed her seat, “the vote is unanimous.”
Adele, rising, made a deep bow as she recited with mock gravity, “Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for the honor which this day you have conferred upon me, and I hope that my future acts and deeds will in no way betray the confidence which you have placed in me.”
“Oho!” Bertha Angel declared. “That speech was in last week’s history lesson.”
“I was hoping you’d all forgotten it,” Adele laughingly replied, as she sat again on the low stone wall.
“Well, I had, you may be sure!” Betty Burd exclaimed. “But what is the club to be named?”
“I had an inspiration last night,” said Adele, “so I wrote it down. I thought we might name the club after our beautiful suburban town of Sunnyside, and then I wrote this rhyme as a sort of pledge for us all to sign:
“We promise to look on the Sunnyside
And be kind and cheerful each day;
To help the needy or lonely or sad,
Whom we happen to meet on our way.”
“Oh, Adele!” moaned Betty Burd in pretended dismay. “Why didn’t you tell us in the beginning that we had to be saints to belong to your club? If I should turn into a cherub too suddenly, my mamma dear wouldn’t know me.”