“My, Lilian, have you gotten that far along?”
“Yes, why not? I can just see how it is going to look. That is a good piano—till we get our own.”
“Good!” exclaimed Eloise. “That is the way to think about it. We can raise the money.”
“We’ll just love our little society hall and have the best times! I can see us having candy sales and things for the benefit of the What-do-you-call-it Literary Sassiety.”
“There you are, Lilian. What are we going to call ourselves?”
“Rack your brains, girls. Maybe some bright idea will strike us. Name, motto, officers, constitution, membership,—but it will be fun to think about it. I want Hilary for president, because she thought about it first and is used to societies and things in church work. She will know how to run it.”
“O, no,—” began Hilary, but was not permitted to go on.
“Please don’t begin that way, Hilary,” said Eloise. “We all ought to do our best in starting this, and I think all the girls feel that you will make our best first president. In after years,” she continued loftily, “when our descendants come to Greycliff, they will be shown a handsome painting, done by the world-renowned artist, Cathalina Van Buskirk, of Madam Hilary Lancaster—Somebody, first president of the Shakespearean Literary Society!”
“Listen to the inspired lady! By the way,” said Hilary, “that would not be a bad name.”
“School societies usually have a Greek or Latin name and some unreadable motto that half the members don’t understand.” Thus Eloise.