"Samples," sniffed Mrs. Stout, contemptuously. "Have you tried cow's milk?"

"The idea!" the ladies exclaimed, indignantly.

"Oh, I know it ain't fashionable," Mrs. Stout retorted, "but I've learned from experience that cow's milk comes next to the best thing for babies."

"Pardon me, ladies," said Mrs. Tweedie, "but I must call your attention to the fact that, admitting at the same time the necessity for babies, our club is still nameless. Mrs. Thornton, what name do you suggest?"

"Oh, dear," replied Mrs. Thornton, "don't ask me. I'm too tired to think. Whatever name is chosen will suit me."

Just then f.a.n.n.y Tweedie rushed into the room with the energy of an infant cyclone. Mrs. Tweedie gazed in astonishment at her pretty, light-headed, light-hearted, impulsive daughter, as though her entrance was out of the ordinary.

"Why, f.a.n.n.y!" she exclaimed. "What has detained you?"

"I've been over to Gertrude's to see her wedding things," f.a.n.n.y replied, in a rather disrespectful manner, without noticing who was present, and then, in her quick, impulsive way, continued: "They're just _lovely_!

Really, I never saw such awfully swell things before _anywhere_. She ought to be happy if any girl ever was. I couldn't _begin_ to tell you about them in a week; and-- Oh, I heard the worst stories about Billy Fl--!" A warning look on her mother's face stopped f.a.n.n.y on the edge of a precipice. But Billy Fl--'s mother guessed--so did the others. Mrs.

Tweedie came quickly to the rescue.

"f.a.n.n.y," she said, "we are trying to find a name for our club; please save your stories for another time. Mrs. Stout, have you any suitable name in mind?"

"How would 'The Manville Woman's Club' do?" replied Mrs. Stout.

"Very good," said Mrs. Tweedie, "only I am prejudiced in regard to the name of our town; it is so suggestive of the _other s.e.x_."

"Well," replied Mrs. Stout, "we've all tried, now what do you think we ought to call ourselves, Mis' Tweedie?"

"I have considered the matter with care," replied Mrs. Tweedie. "Many names have come into my mind, but for one reason or another, all excepting one were rejected. The one that appeals to me as being the most appropriate and beautifully poetic is 'The Morning Glory Club.'"

"Beautiful," murmured the ladies, excepting Mrs. Stout, who laughed until her fat body shook.

"Excuse _me_," she said, as soon as she could control her mirth. "It's an awful pretty name, but what a beautiful bunch of morning glories us old women will make." If the ladies had been profane what opportunities Mrs. Stout had given them. She continued to laugh, however, despite their frowns.

"Madam President," said Miss Sawyer, when Mrs. Stout's laughter had subsided to a gurgling chuckle. "The name that you have suggested is admirable. The only question in my mind is concerning the word 'club.'

Is 'club' more appropriate than a.s.sociation, or some other word?"

"You might say congregation," replied Mrs. Stout, "or aggregation."

"Club," replied Mrs. Tweedie, "is the term generally used, I believe, to--"

"What difference does it make, anyway?" Mrs. Stout interrupted. "We'll never get anything done if we don't 'tend to business better'n we have.

We've done about as much in two hours as the men would have done in ten minutes."

"Indeed," retorted Mrs. Tweedie, "but would they have done it as well?"

She asked the question in tones approaching anger. (Blue blood boils at 180 F.)

"Better," snapped Mrs. Stout, who was fast losing patience.

"And why?" pressed Mrs. Tweedie, determined this time to utterly squelch Mrs. Stout if such a thing were possible.

"Because," replied Mrs. Stout, "they wouldn't have talked about everything under the sun while they was doin' it."

"No, my dear Mrs. Stout" (Mrs. Tweedie knew the irony of "my dear"

perfectly), "it would be because the _other s.e.x_ are more experienced than woman. And they are more experienced because for centuries it has been their exclusive right to organize and govern. In the meantime, we women have been kept under foot and in darkness."

"Good land!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, "perhaps _you_ have been stepped on, Mis' Tweedie, but I'm mighty sure that _I_ ain't! It would take an awful big foot to keep me in darkness." An embarra.s.sing silence followed, after which Mrs. Tweedie put the question, on motion of Miss Sawyer, and the name, "The Morning Glory Club," was adopted unanimously. At the moment Mrs. Tweedie announced, "It is a vote," Ezra Tweedie, unmistakably labouring under some great excitement, appeared in the doorway.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Tweedie.

"Mrs. Brown, next door, needs you at once," he stammered.

"Oh!" exclaimed the ladies in a stage whisper. Mrs. Tweedie alone seemed not to understand.

"What has happened?" she demanded, forgetting for the moment those present. Ezra blushed, and looked about for some means of escape. (What foolishly sensitive, over modest fools we all are at times.) "Why don't you answer?" Mrs. Tweedie almost thundered.

"It's a new baby!" Ezra blurted, and then fled.

The Morning Glory Club adjourned without form.

Late that afternoon when Mrs. Tweedie returned home she found Ezra asleep on a couch in the sitting-room, while in the kitchen her son, Thomas, and two of his chums, were trying to tar and feather a fourth urchin with mola.s.ses and the contents of a pillow. The uplifting of our morals and intellect is trying, and some personal sacrifice is necessary, she thought, as she drove the boys out of the house, and awoke her sleeping husband.

"Where's Dora?" she asked, when Ezra sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I--I," he yawned. "Dora? Oh, she asked me if she could go out for a few moments, and I gave my consent. I hope, my dear, that I was right in so doing."

"Right? Certainly not, Ezra. How are we to have any dinner? The fire is out, Dora is out--"

"And you have been out," Ezra chuckled.

"Three out--all out!" yelled Thomas. "And say, ma, I'm awful hungry."

Chapter II

A Man and a Woman

ON the same day that the Morning Glory Club was born, it happened that Will Flint met Barbara Wallace on her way to school, and he eagerly grasped the opportunity to renew a friendship which had begun at Barbara's home, in his college town, a year before she came to Manville.

"I'm mighty glad to see you, Miss Wallace," he said, with boyish enthusiasm.

"Thank you," she replied. "And may I ask how you happen to be at home at this time in the year?"

The smile on his face disappeared.

"I'll walk with you a few minutes if you don't mind, and try to explain," he said. Will tried to tell the truth and spare himself at the same time, but did neither well.

"I'm sorry, and in your senior year, too," said Barbara, when he had finished.