THE CLUB.
It was Audrey Vane who first broached the plan of forming a special
society among the girls at school. Knowing her own claims to
distinguished ancestry, and being anxious to emphasize the fact, she
proposed to a select few that they should follow the example of their
elders and start a patriotic club. Audrey was almost the age of Persis;
nevertheless, she and Mellicent were close friends, and to the latter
she first unfolded her scheme. Mellicent admired Audrey exceedingly and
was always ready to follow her lead. Audrey had many good traits, but
she allowed herself to be influenced more by position and family than
by character; in consequence she was called “stuck up” by many of the
girls and was not the general favorite that Persis was.
After a talk with Mellicent upon the subject nearest her heart Audrey
won her ready help in writing a number of little notes which were found
one morning upon the desks of the special girls selected for favor, and
when recess was called quite a flock of curious maidens congregated in
one corner of the school-room. Audrey was full of enthusiasm, and was
armed with arguments.
“You see, girls,” she began, “we ought to try to guard all the history
of the early days of our country. Mamma says so; and I think if we
form a society that will make us take more interest in our studies, at
the same time we are hunting up stories and dates about our ancestors,
that it will be a great benefit to us. I think if we have a nice select
number,—about a dozen to begin with——”
“How about the girls we don’t admit?” interrupted Persis between bites
of a big apple. “It seems sort of mean not to give them the benefit of
our researching.”
“Oh, but we can’t,” replied Audrey, in dismay; “that would destroy the
whole intention; besides, they would feel very much cut up if they
didn’t have any ancestors.”
“I have heard some awfully good monkey stories,” returned Persis,
mischievously. “We might gain a great deal of useful information by the
study of natural history.”
“Now, Perse, you’re always chaffing,” rejoined Audrey, “and you’re just
the one to help us out if you only take hold in the right way. Your
family is all right, and you needn’t pretend to be so democratic.”
“Oh, I’ll take hold fast enough,” continued Persis, “as soon as I know
all the ins and outs, but I hate an ostentatious exclusiveness.”
“Whew! what big words!” laughed Nellie Hall. “Go on, Audrey; we want
to know more of this. What do you propose to call your club?”
“How would ‘Young Colonial Dames’ do?”
“Imagine our being dames,” criticised Nellie.
“Well, Ladies, then.”
“Sounds like a seminary,” objected Persis. “Colonial Youngsters is more
concise.”
“How absurd! There’s no dignity about that.”
“Who wants to be dignified?” queried Persis, flippantly.
“You need to be,” put in Lisa.
“Well, just let’s leave the name for the present. Call a meeting for
Saturday, Audrey, and in the mean time we can talk it over with our
mothers, and see what we can do,” proposed Nellie.
This was agreed upon, and the girls went home full of the scheme.
“Don’t you think it’s a fine plan, mamma?” asked Lisa, who had worked
herself up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. “I never can remember
dates and such things, and Audrey says her mother told her that the
researching she has done has strengthened her memory wonderfully. Don’t
you approve?”
“I do, with qualifications. I think you should not set yourselves apart
from those of your school-mates who cannot lay claim to distinguished
ancestry, although I do believe in preserving the records of those
families whose forefathers helped to make our country. It depends much
upon the spirit of the thing. If it is simply to form an exclusive
coterie, I object seriously. If it is to emphasize your studies, and if
you make good character your first consideration, I approve heartily.”
The three sisters looked at each other. There was an uneasy feeling
that Audrey’s purpose was the forming of an exclusive set, although she
had not declared it.
“I think it would be a good plan to join, and then if we find it
doesn’t turn out as it ought, we can withdraw,” said Lisa, slowly.
“Perhaps that will do,” agreed Mrs. Holmes. “I have no objection to
that.”
“Good!” cried Persis. “Come, girls, let’s go and get grandma to help us
dig up our forefathers.”
“What a ghastly way to put it,” laughed Lisa. “You know there is the
judge, Persis, and the mandamus councillor.”
“And the governor. Don’t forget the governor,” put in Mellicent. “He is
the most important of all.”
“Oh, yes,” returned Lisa; “but then he is so far back I nearly always
forget him.”
“And the colonel,” interposed Persis.
“He wasn’t colonial; he was Revolutionary,” corrected Lisa.
“Sure enough. Well, grandma will straighten it all out.”
Therefore, armed with records and bristling with information, the girls
set forth to attend the meeting on Saturday afternoon. They found a
small though strictly select party gathered at Audrey’s home.
“We have concluded to adopt the same standard of eligibility which is
required by the real Colonial Dames,” informed Audrey. “I will read
off the list, and any of those who know they can join can put their
names down to-day, and we’ll choose a committee to decide upon them.”
There followed much mirthful laughter and many exclamations of, “Oh, I
can’t remember! I’ll have to look that up.” But the few who had taken
care to provide themselves with statistics were solemnly admitted.
Among these were the Holmes girls, whose governor was highly approved.
“I don’t believe I can find any one but a miserable old member of
assembly,” announced Kitty Carew. “I ought to have some one else. You
Holmes girls have such a magnificent array that I feel so paltry.
However, I haven’t half my forebears hunted up; so there is no knowing
what superior sort of person I may unearth. I think I’ll wait till I
have a better showing.”
“Now,” said Audrey, “when we have a club of ten we shall begin to admit
others on the endorsement of the original members; but we must be very
particular.”
“Oh, I want to hurry up and get some history out of it,” Persis
contended. “Don’t let us waste all our time over the business part.”
“But we must at first,” responded Audrey. “I think we have made a very
good beginning,—you three Holmes girls, Nellie Hall, Margaret Greene,
and myself. We shall expect you, Kitty, and the others to be all ready
with your records and papers next time.”
“Oh, and about the name,” said Lisa. “Grandma suggests Colonial Maids.”
“I think that is fine,” acquiesced Nellie Hall. “Don’t you like it,
Audrey?”
“Yes; it is the best yet. I move that we adopt it,” said Audrey.
“Seconded,” cried Nellie.
“Now, girls,” Audrey continued, “we must not forget to have some
interesting facts for next time. Each must bring some bit of incident
to tell.”
“And what about the time and place of meeting?” questioned Margaret
Greene.
“I think it would be nice if we could meet on Friday afternoons in the
school-room, if Miss Adams will let us.”
“Then I propose that a committee of two be appointed to ask her,—you,
Audrey, and Lisa Holmes.” And Margaret looked around for some one to
approve.
“Second the motion,” cried Persis. And the meeting broke up with
congratulations upon its success from one to the other.
But, pleasant as the little club promised to be, what heart-burnings
followed. Almost immediately there were bickerings and troubles. The
Colonial Maids were looked upon as exclusive and disagreeable by those
who were not members of the club, while these outsiders were regarded
as open enemies by the “Maids.”
There were, of course, some girls who wisely showed no partisan spirit
and were friendly to all; but these were few, not more than ten girls
out of sixty pupils being of this class. The club soon increased to
twenty members, and great were the boastings and lofty was the bearing
of most of these.
“It just suits Lisa,” Persis confided to her mother. “She holds her
chin in the air higher than ever, and Mellicent thinks just as Audrey
does; so I get terribly sat upon if I say there are as nice girls out
of the club as in it. But I have a scheme, and I’m going to carry it
through.”
“Now, don’t do anything disagreeable, Persis,” warned her mother.
“I’m not going to. I really am not, mamma, only I do think they
ought to be taken down a peg or two. Miss Adams says, although she
approves heartily of our having a club, and does not object to our
using the school-room, she is very sorry to see this warlike element.
And when one of the outsiders was asked to contribute to Miss Adams’s
Christmas-gift she refused because she said it was taxation without
representation. I think that was a good joke.”
Mrs. Holmes laughed. “It was rather hard on Miss Adams.”
“Yes, I know; but the outside girls think she favors the club because
she allows us the use of the school-room, and not more than ten of them
have given anything toward the Christmas gift. Oh, I tell you we’re in
hot water.”
It is quite true that the pretentious bearing of the club members was
very keenly felt by many of the girls, and by some of them was bitterly
resented. Toward no one was a supercillious manner more visibly
displayed than quiet little Annis Brown, who, however, never by word or
look gave evidence that she noticed it.
A vote had been carried by a majority of the club which provided for a
rule prohibiting the members from visiting certain girls in the school,
Annis among others. The Holmes girls, to their credit, were among those
who voted against this high-handed measure, and Persis hotly protested,
threatening to send in her resignation if the rule should be enforced;
and there promised to be rupture in the camp.
“I’d like to see any one choose my companions for me. My mother is the
only one who has a right to do that,” Persis angrily declared. And in
open defiance she became a frequent visitor at Annis Brown’s.
Annis lived in one of the unfashionable streets of the city. Her mother
was a widow whose small means were eked out by the taking of boarders;
and from Audrey’s stand-point this was sufficient cause for ostracising
little Annis. She regarded the quiet, unassuming little girl as far
beneath her, and treated her accordingly. Persis, with her generous
promptings, had always been specially kind to Annis, and now declared
openly that she was the nicest girl in school. The club was in a state
of great agitation. To ask Persis to resign meant offence to Lisa and
Mellicent, who were far too important members to slight. To disregard
Persis’s action meant the sapping of the very foundations of club
discipline, and therefore there were whispers and glances, retreats and
advances, for two or three weeks, Persis, meantime, growing more and
more devoted to Annis.
“I don’t see how your sister can be so very democratic,” ventured
Audrey to Mellicent. “I should think she would have more consideration
for you and Lisa.”
“Persis doesn’t care,” replied Mellicent, plaintively. “She is always
that way. If she thinks a thing is right you might as well try to move
a mountain. She will give up every one before she does Annis. You see
if she doesn’t.”
“Well, I think it is a shame for her to upset everything in this way,”
complained Audrey, almost in tears.
Persis, however, gloated over the trouble she was causing, and on the
day before the meeting which was to decide the action of the club
regarding her defiance of rules she walked off with Annis after school,
laughing at Audrey’s look of dismay and Lisa’s stern disapproval.
“I wish you would try your influence upon Persis,” the latter said to
her mother. “I think it is a shame for her to act so. I am sure, mamma,
you, who are always so particular about our acquaintances, must see
that Persis is at fault.”
“Let Persis alone,” returned Mrs. Holmes. “She is doing nothing wrong.”
“But, mamma, what a position for us to be in. She will be asked to
resign, and we can’t stay in the club under such circumstances. It
makes the most fearful muddle.”
Mrs. Holmes sewed quietly on. “Leave the matter to adjust itself,
Lisa, and don’t worry over it,” she advised. “I can assure you that it
will all come out right.”
“Then Persis has told you what she means to do.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, well, I suppose she’ll do something to astonish us
to-morrow,—either resign of her own accord, or consent to abide by the
rules.”
But Persis did not mean to do either of these things. She was at that
moment knitting her brows over some papers at a table in Annis’s little
attic room.
“Hoop-la!” she cried presently. “I’ve found the link, Annis. Here it
is. You see John wasn’t Jacob’s son at all; he was Henry’s son, and
that makes you all right. Can’t you imagine the surprise?” And Persis
threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Give me those papers,” she
continued. “There, write down just what I tell you. I’m glad I can
count on Nellie Hall. She must sign this before I go home.”
“I don’t see why you want to take so much trouble. You know I don’t
care anything at all about it,” Annis certified. “I know I have nothing
to be ashamed of, and that’s enough.”
“That is the best evidence in the world of your real claim: your quiet
indifference. If you had turned up your nose and had flouted around and
raged, as some of the girls have done, I should have been inclined to
turn aggressive myself. But you always were so—so ladylike.”
“Of course,” returned Annis with a little hauteur. “I leave wrangling
and squabbling to kitchen-maids. My mother never descends to such
things, why should I?”
“That is just it,” answered Persis, admiringly. “I know you don’t care
a rap about this club. You are doing this all on my account, so as to
let me out of the trouble. You are just that dear, sweet kind of a
thing.”
It had been only too evident to Annis that Persis’s stanch loyalty to
her was the cause of difficulty, and she had therefore, after some
hesitation, made known certain facts which resulted in the above
conversation.
Curiosity as to the outcome of the next meeting of the club brought a
full attendance, and there were many covert glances at Persis to see
how she bore herself upon this particular occasion.
After the minutes of the last meeting had been read, the next business
in order was the presenting of new names for membership, and every eye
was turned upon Persis as she arose in her seat. It was the custom of
the club to present the paper of each applicant with the signature of
two of the members, these papers being read aloud by the one proposing
the name of a friend. Therefore the proposition of a new member by
Persis caused a little ripple of wonder to pass over the gathering.
“Mr.—I mean Miss President,” began Persis, a little confused, “I wish
to present the name of my friend, Miss Annis Brown, for membership.”
There was a visible start from the president, Audrey Vane, astonished
looks passed from one girl to another, and a dead silence followed as
Persis proceeded to read the application setting forth the grounds
upon which Annis was eligible.
As she mentioned governor, provincial congressman, judge, signer of
the declaration, general of provincial army, founder of college, and
other officers, the girls looked from one to another in amazement.
Then, after Persis had concluded her reading of the accurate and
well-established record, with her own name and that of Nellie Hall as
endorsers, she added, “I would like to remark that Miss Brown claims
descent from one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in the
country, and that her Revolutionary ancestry is as distinguished as her
colonial; but I do not think she will find it necessary to add to the
list of those already mentioned.” And Persis sat down with head erect
and eyes sparkling.
All order was thrown aside when Margaret Greene called out, “Well,
Persis Holmes, if you haven’t played a trick on us! Who could believe
that quiet little thing was such an aristocrat?”
“I could,” replied Persis, triumphantly. “If you knew her as well as
I do you would see there is no truer lady among us. The way she has
acted all along proves it. You all thought she didn’t resent your high
and mighty ways because she was a poor-spirited, meek, down-trodden
worm, when it was only conscious superiority.” And no one contradicted
Persis, who looked around with a keen appreciation of the situation.
The silence was broken by Audrey. “You might have told us before,” she
said, in an aggrieved tone.
“I didn’t have all the proofs,” returned Persis, “and I knew nothing
less than cast-iron documents would satisfy this belligerent crowd.
_I_ was satisfied that Annis was a lovely, refined girl long ago, and
should never have questioned her inherited right to be called a lady;
but she told me all these things just to set me right with the club,
although it went against the grain for her to do it. Bless her dear
heart!”
“Of course we can’t refuse to admit her,” acknowledged Audrey, somewhat
grudgingly. “There isn’t a loop-hole of escape, for her character is
above reproach.”
“I should say so,” sniffed Persis. “And now I think this thing has
gone far enough, so I propose that we extend our limits, since every
one knows by this time that we are all grandees.” And she laughed
good-humoredly. “I propose we let in any girls who have good, fiery,
old Revolutionary stock to back them.”
“But that will include nearly every one of the girls,” objected Audrey.
“Suppose it does. What is it? the greatest good to the greatest number.
If we make character the rock on which we split there will be no danger
of our being contaminated.”
Silence again fell upon the company.
“Miss Adams says we can’t have the school-room to use if the club is
going to cause so much dissension,” presently ventured Nellie Hall.
“And,” continued Persis, “my father says the Holmes girls are to resign
in a body if the club is going to make them forget to be ladies and
Christians.”
“Goodness!” cried Margaret Greene. “It’s getting to look serious. We’ll
have to give in, girls. We’d better hold out the olive-branch. I second
the motion for extending our limits and calling our club—what shall we
call it?”
“Oh, dear! I don’t know,” replied Audrey, feeling that she had no
ground to stand upon. “Just tack on Revolutionary and call ourselves
Colonial and Revolutionary Maids. That will do.” And this was agreed
upon, to the intense satisfaction of Persis.
Consequently the club continued in existence, and to it were added many
new members, while the interest extended and broadened. Miss Adams
herself finally became president and directed the girls in such a
helpful, delightful way that no event of the month was anticipated with
more pleasure than the regular meeting of “the club.”
[Illustration: Decoration]