The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he asked.
"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind.
"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of proprietorship.
When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to join because you have my motto," he said.
"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully.
By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall, and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work, Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust. Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind.
"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called 'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of rich, polished marble, and you could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver horn."
"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice.
"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had time."
A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big storm," he said.