"H'm," grunted Roger. "There seems to be a good reason for every one of us joining this club. What's the matter with Ethel Brown?"
"I know," answered Ethel Brown before her mother had time to reply; "Mother's going to tell you that I like to do things for people not to give them pleasure, but because it gives me pleasure and so I don't do things the way they like them but the way I like them. And that's really selfish and not unselfish."
"Upon my word," exclaimed Grandfather Emerson, "these children seem to be able to analyze themselves mighty closely! They agree on one thing, though—this club of Ethel Blue's is the cure that they all need for their different ailments."
"Let's have it," cried Roger. "Ethel Blue shall be president and we'll let Dicky be an honorary member and the grown-ups shall be the Advisory Board."
"Oh, I couldn't be president," said Ethel Blue shrinkingly.
"It's your idea. You ought to be," insisted Helen.
"No, you be president. And let's ask Margaret Hancock to belong, and James. You know we'll probably see a good deal of them next winter now that we know them. They're only forty minutes on the trolley from us."
"I wish we'd always known them; they're certainly great kids," pronounced Roger.
"If we have a club it will be an inducement to them to come over often."
"What'll we call the club?" Ethel Brown always liked to have details attended to promptly.