Glenloch Girls Part 6

"Rather vague, that," murmured Charlotte. "If that's all there is to it we're a club now."

"What's your idea, Betty?" asked Dorothy encouragingly. "Anything but sewing. I utterly refuse to join that kind of a club."

"I knew a girl in Chicago," said Ruth, "who belonged to a cooking club. They met every two weeks at the different houses to practice, and once in two months they cooked a supper and invited other girls and boys. She said they had great fun and really learned a great deal."

"That's just my idea," declared Betty promptly, "only I couldn't get it quite clear in my own mind."

"I don't like cooking," said Charlotte soberly, "but I suppose it wouldn't hurt me to know something about it."

"The first thing, of course, is to ask our mothers and Mrs.

Hamilton," said Dorothy, who was always practical. "I know mamma will be glad to have me learn, though I'm afraid the cook won't like to have us in her kitchen."

"Our Hannah wouldn't mind if you met at our house every time," said Betty.

"That can all be settled later when we find out whether we can really do it," declared Charlotte impatiently. "In the meantime I'm pining for a piece of that fudge; isn't it hard yet, Dolly?"

"Just right," answered Dorothy, taking it in from the window-ledge.

"Dorothy, this is certainly the best fudge I ever tasted," declared Ruth impressively. "Mine was never half so good. Girls, I move that in consideration of Miss Dorothy Marshall's skill as a maker of fudge she be made president of the new club."

"Second the motion," cried both the girls at once, and as there was no one left to vote on it, it was declared settled.

Dorothy rose, bowed, tapped on the table with the chafing-dish spoon, and said with a fair imitation of her mother's stately manner:

"Ladies, I thank you for the honor you have conferred upon me."

Then dropping her official manner, she added, "Let's keep it a dead secret at first from the boys, because they never tell us anything about their old Candle Club."

"What's that?" asked Ruth with great interest.

"Oh, six of the boys belong to it, and they've fixed up one of the rooms above our stable," answered Dorothy. "They call it the Candle Club because at first they used candles, but now the name doesn't fit."

"They might call themselves 'electric sparks,' now," drawled Charlotte; "but boys are so unprogressive."

"We shall need some more officers," said Betty. "I think Charlotte ought to be secretary because she likes to write, and Ruth--"

What Ruth was to be was not destined to be told at that meeting, for just at that moment there was a loud knock which made the girls jump. Ruth opened the door and for a second saw no one. Then a plump, curly-haired boy, very purple as to his face and hands, and rather bedraggled as to his general appearance, walked in hesitatingly. Close at his heels followed a depressed-looking Scotch terrier. At sight of the latter, every individual hair on Fuzzy's spine stood up straight, and with remarks in several different languages he fled to the top of a high-backed chair, where he sat and glared at the enemy.

The girls were convulsed with laughter, and the small visitor, abashed, fled to Charlotte and buried his face in her lap.

"Irving Eastman, what are you here for?" demanded Charlotte sternly, trying to raise the curly beau so that she might look the culprit in the face.

"Wanted to find you," came in smothered accents from her lap. "Me and Tatterth got lonethome."

"Why didn't you stay with Stanley and the others?"

"Couldn't. Couthin Jothie came and took them out to walk, and I couldn't go 'cauth I wath all blue."

"How did you get in here?"

"The door wath open, and I came upthtairth and then I couldn't find you. But I found Arthur, and Tatterth and I thtayed with him."

The girls looked at each other in amazement.

"What did you do in Arthur's room, Irving?" asked Betty soothingly.

"I talked to him and he gave me thith." The purple cherub raised his head and opening one fat hand displayed a small carved bear of Swiss manufacture. "He thaid it could be my bear for alwayth," he declared triumphantly.

"What did Arthur say when you walked into his room?" asked Dorothy.

"He laughed so hard I wath going to come away, but he called me back."

"Girls, he laughed," repeated Charlotte impressively. "Irving, I ought to scold you, but this time you are an angel in disguise.

Perhaps this is the first step in the Restoration of A. H., Esq."

"Let's take another, then, by sending him a plate of fudge,"

suggested Ruth.

"Just the thing," exclaimed Betty and Dorothy together, and they immediately hooked little fingers and proceeded to wish.

"Irving, can you carry some fudge to Arthur?" continued Ruth, heaping up one of her daintiest saucers. "If you will take this without spilling any, you shall have some to take home with you."

"I gueth tho," said Irving with an angelic smile, feeling himself the hero of the occasion.

"Just give the dish to Arthur and come right back," said Charlotte decidedly. "It's time to go anyway," she continued, "and I must take the Infant home as soon as possible, or mother will worry."

"He thayth 'thankth,'" said Irving in aloud voice, strolling down the hall and leaving Arthur's door wide open behind him.

"Shut the door, Irving," said Charlotte in a loud whisper.

"I think he better have it open," answered Irving, who did not feel disposed to take any extra steps.

"Irving," began Charlotte sternly, then stopped in amazement at the unexpected sound of Arthur's voice.

"Never mind the door, Irving," he said, "The fudge is out of sight, girls, or will be in a few moments. Much obliged."

CHAPTER V

THE SOCIAL SIX

It was about time for news of the steamer's arrival to reach Ruth, and in spite of her many new experiences the thought of her father was always uppermost in her mind. The morning and evening newspapers meant to her simply the s.h.i.+pping news, and, several days before the steamer could possibly arrive, she began her daily study of the s.h.i.+pping lists. Eight days had seemed long to wait for news of one's best-beloved chum, but Ruth had to confess that the time had been filled so full that it had pa.s.sed quickly. Starting in school had not been so great an ordeal as she had expected. To her joy she was to be allowed to see what she could do in the cla.s.s with Betty and Charlotte, and she was determined to succeed, though she knew it meant harder work than she had ever done in her life.

The Glenloch Academy was the pride of Glenloch and the envy of the surrounding towns. The money for its establishment and maintenance had been left the town by a public-spirited citizen, and the fund had been so generous that the best in the way of teachers and equipaient had been made possible. It took the place of a high school in its methods of study, gave a thorough preparation for college, and offered six years of the most liberal training to those whose school education must of necessity stop there. Ruth felt an interest at once in her new teachers, was charmed with the idea of doing regular gymnasium work in the fine gymnasium which had lately been added to the school, and altogether felt that her lines had fallen in pleasant places.

"Don't be in such a rush," called Dorothy, as Ruth ran down the school steps. "I want to talk to you."