"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked.
"I think it is something political."
"Then we don't want it."
However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to
consult it.
"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he
found the place.
"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'"
"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he
said presently.
"Then it means to do things for each other. I like that. Why couldn't we
put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'"
"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice.
"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want."
So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed.
"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said.
"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind.
"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a
badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you
think it is going to be fun?"
Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must
be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new
blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had
already written: "The Arden Foresters--Secret Society," and at Rosalind's
suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything."
They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show
it to somebody. Where is Katherine?"
But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her
first.
The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her
elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he
folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written,
and placed it in the book.
"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of
the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?"
"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do."
"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind
commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person
she is."
"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis.
"Do you think she is kind?"
"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,--the day
you spoke to me through the hedge,--she came in and sat on the step and
tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind."
"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind
persisted.
Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these
inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked.
"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure."
Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the
cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at
first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I
looked back, I am sure--almost sure--saw her throw the rose away."
"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She
couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you."
"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief.
"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,--Belle
said so,--and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am
going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose."
[Illustration: "LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."]
While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine
found their way in at the window.
"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to
join," Rosalind proposed.
Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started
gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe
it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella."
"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested,
laughing.
"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why
everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go."
"No one else would have done it, that's all."
When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with
some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables,
and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one
corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his
nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the
picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his
visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a
welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.
"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster
and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt
boys.
Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at
the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto.
Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.
Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.
"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked.
Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went
on. "Search for the ring--" he looked up questioningly; but when it was
explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said.
Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times,
glancing from one to the other of his visitors.
"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind.
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.
As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house
across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping
umbrella was almost swept into the shop.
"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice.
"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly.
The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella.
"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said.
Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a
fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the
thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss
Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be
unkind and disdainful?
The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and
if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that
Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and
observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella,
"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?"
Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met
Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said.
But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind
must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she
and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as
just to be friendly.
Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded
shyly.