“What are you doing, pet?” she asked, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and glancing at the postals.
“Oh!” Harry gave a start and looked up in surprise. [“Mama, you mustn’t see!” she cried. “It’s a secret!”]
“A secret? Well, my dear, I wouldn’t write it on postals then,” laughed her mother. “Don’t you know that any one can read it that way?”
“Well, it isn’t a secret—exactly,” explained Harry. “But it’s something you and papa mustn’t know about, yet. Are you reading it?”
“No, I’ve stopped, dear. But what is the F. H. S. I. S?”
“That’s it! That’s the secret. It’s a society.”
