"All—we six, I mean—Frances and the Vaughns, and the 'Tittering Twins,' and me. We haven't any name for the society yet, but we want to do something."
"What sort of a something?"
"Oh, I don't know. All sorts of somethings; but, first of all—you know how sick Minnie Banister is, don't you, mamma?"
"Yes."
"Well, the society is really gotten up for her. We want to go every Saturday, and take her presents. Surprises, you know, so that she can be sort of expecting us all the week and looking forward. Don't you think that is a good plan, mamma?"
"Very good; but what kind of presents were you thinking of?"
"I don't know exactly; we haven't thought about that yet. Something pretty. You'll give us some money to buy them with, won't you, mamma?"
"No, dear, I can't do that."
"But, mamma!"
"Listen, Catherine, and don't pucker your forehead so. It's a bad habit which you have taken up lately, and I want you to break yourself of it. I cannot give you money to buy presents; not that I do not love Minnie, or am not sorry for her, but I cannot afford it. Papa has his own boys and girls to feed and clothe and educate. He cannot spare money for things that are not necessary, even when they are kind pleasant things like this plan of yours."