"Are we all here?" asked Mrs. Tweedie, one afternoon as she glanced about Miss Sawyer's parlour to see how many members of the play committee were present.

"All except Miss Wallace," Miss Sawyer replied, when she had counted noses.

"And she will not be here," said Mrs. Tweedie, quickly. "The schools have been opened."

"Ain't it a relief to have the children in school again, Mis' Jones?" asked Mrs. Stout.

"Indeed it is," replied Mrs. Jones.

"Why, Mrs. Stout, Mrs. Jones!" exclaimed Miss Sawyer. "Do you send your children to school merely to relieve yourselves of responsibility? I have thought always that children were sent to school to be educated."

"So they are," replied Mrs. Stout, "but if they can be educated, and at the same time be kept away from home long enough ev'ry day to give their mothers a chance to do the housework, why, I say that school is a twin blessin'."

"That is just what I think," said Mrs. Jones, in an amen sort of way. "And I'm sure that the children in Miss Wallace's school have an excellent woman to instruct and care for them."

"As a teacher, yes," replied Mrs. Tweedie, "but—" she stopped abruptly, and looked wise.

"Mother," said Fanny, reprovingly.

"Fanny, I am capable of managing such affairs without the interference of girls," replied Mrs. Tweedie, sharply.

"Pardon me, but is it not time to begin our meeting?" Miss Sawyer asked, timidly.

"Yes, it is!" replied Mrs. Stout. "The play committee's off the track again."

"Well, let us get on to the track and go ahead," said Mrs. Tweedie, sneeringly.

"What's this meetin' for, anyway?" asked Mrs. Stout.

The ladies looked inquiringly at Miss Sawyer, who had called them together.

"There are many details," she began, "to be worked out in regard to our entertainment: programmes, tickets, music, advertising—"

She was interrupted by Mrs. Stout who was suddenly overcome by a spasm of laughter.

"Advertisin'!" she choked, "people for ten miles—" another burst of laughter prevented her from continuing for a moment. "People for ten miles 'round are talkin' about nothin' else. Don't spend a cent for advertisin'."

"Quite true," added Mrs. Tweedie, "our club and entertainment are in the mouths of everybody."

"And I'm 'fraid they've got a hard pill to swaller," said Mrs. Stout, wiping her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Tweedie quickly demanded.

"Oh, nothin' against anybody in pertic'ler, only it has struck me that some of us old women in the show are goin' to be dreadful funny when we ain't s'posed to be."

"The people know that we do not pretend to be more than amateurs," pleaded Miss Sawyer.

"I know that," replied Mrs. Stout, "but there are good and bad amatoors."

"It is too bad of you to say such things, Mrs. Stout," said Mrs. Blake. "I am sure that we shall do quite as well as we are expected to do."

"Of course," smiled Mrs. Stout, "but we're bound to make mistakes, and we don't want to be any bigger fools than we can help."

"Fools indeed!" snapped Mrs. Tweedie, "I am sure that the ladies who are to take part in our entertainment are of exceptional intelligence and ability—with one or two exceptions."

"And I'm prob'ly the biggest exception," said Mrs. Stout.

"I mentioned no names," replied Mrs. Tweedie, haughtily.

"You don't have to," retorted Mrs. Stout.

Mrs. Tweedie's face was flushed with anger. The others looked frightened, they feared that the open rupture between Mrs. Stout and Mrs. Tweedie, which had been brewing since the first meeting of the club, was about to take place. But Mrs. Tweedie's anger was too intense for words, and after glaring at the cause of her wrath for a moment, she sank back in her chair with the last word trembling on her lips—unspoken.

To dictate, to be absolute, was Mrs. Tweedie's joy—her life; but her power was waning, though she did not realize it. A mild spirit of rebellion had crept into the minds of some of the members which promised to bear fruit before the expiration of her term of office. Mrs. Stout, the only outspoken rebel, caused Mrs. Tweedie more annoyance than any other member because she would speak truths that were certain to hit somebody, and Mrs. Tweedie always presented the most tempting mark.

"What have you learned concerning the orchestra, Mrs. Jones?" asked Miss Sawyer when the temporary cessation of talk had cleared away the clouds.

"Orchestra!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, without giving Mrs. Jones a chance to reply. "An orchestra will cost too much. Can't we get somebody to play the piano for nothing? We're tryin' to make money—anybody can spend it."

Mrs. Tweedie had set her heart upon having an orchestra, and immediately trained her guns on Mrs. Stout's economical proposition and opened fire.

"Money is not the only thing," she said, epigrammatically. "We must not forget what we owe to art. To my mind orchestral music is an absolutely essential adjunct to a Thespian production."

"Perhaps that's so," replied Mrs. Stout, doubtfully. "I ain't quite pos'tive."

Mrs. Tweedie smiled. With her big words she had scored a bull's-eye.

"As for the money," Mrs. Stout continued, "maybe it ain't the 'only thing,' but it comes precious near it."

"But, Mrs. Stout," said Fanny Tweedie, "we've just got to make a 'hit' with our first entertainment."

"Fanny, we are not talking about baseball," remonstrated Mrs. Tweedie, who had absorbed unconsciously some knowledge of the national game from her son Thomas, and for the moment forgot the application to the stage of the word in question.

"The word 'hit' means success on the stage," replied Fanny. "Does it not, Miss Sawyer?"

"I have seen the word so used in the newspapers," answered Miss Sawyer.

"The newspapers," said Mrs. Tweedie, sharply, "are not written in the best English."

"Perhaps they ain't," interposed Mrs. Stout, "but they're written the way most of us talk and so that we can understand 'em."

"The word has little to do with the business before us," snapped Mrs. Tweedie, dismissing the subject. "You mentioned programmes and tickets, Miss Sawyer, what about them?"

"The expense will be only a trifle; I suppose Mr. Hunter will do the printing," replied Miss Sawyer.

"Of course," said Mrs. Tweedie, in a positive way that the ladies did not like, because Mr. Hunter was Mrs. Tweedie's cousin, a descendant of the famous ancestor. "And now," she continued, "is there anything else that has not been attended to?"

"Has the hall been hired?" asked Mrs. Jones.

"Really!" exclaimed Miss Sawyer, "I had wholly forgotten it!"

"You'd better get after it quick, or some of the men folks will get ahead of us with some kind of a political meetin'," said Mrs. Stout. "Then we'll have to 'stoop to conquer' all right."

"You will attend to the matter to-day, Miss Sawyer?" Mrs. Tweedie asked, and upon receiving an affirmative nod continued, "And now, if there is—"

"Oh," interrupted Mrs. Jones, "what shall we do about Mr. Flint? He is so firmly opposed to our entertainment that—"

"He's our advertisin' agent," remarked Mrs. Stout, irreverently.

"What can we do?" said Miss Sawyer.

"What can he do?" asked Fanny.

"It grieves me," Mrs. Tweedie began, "to think that we are engaged upon an enterprise to which our worthy pastor is so much opposed, but I do not see my way clear to yield to his opposition. Surely the club cannot give up the entertainment."

"All we can do," said Mrs. Stout, "is to go ahead with the show and pay no attention to what he says."

"Mrs. Stout, our entertainment is not to be a 'show' in any sense," replied Mrs. Tweedie, indignantly.

"As I said once before to-day, it may be for some of us," retorted Mrs. Stout.

"Well, I attend Mr. Flint's church," said Mrs. Jones, "and have the greatest respect for him, but I must say that I cannot fully agree with him in his ideas about the stage."

"Nor I," said Miss Sawyer.

"He's too stiff-backed for me," was Mrs. Stout's contribution.

"Me too," chirped Fanny, and her mother and Mrs. Blake silently agreed with the others. For once they were of one mind. Mr. Flint could rave until he was hoarse.

"For the land sakes!" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Stout, as she sat up very straight with her eyes fixed upon something on the other side of the room. Then, as though controlled by some mysterious, irresistible force, she got up and walked toward the mantel, and when near enough to be sure that her eyes were not deceiving her, stopped. "If it ain't a picture of Sam Billin's!"

Miss Sawyer blushed, and wondered how she could have been so careless. Poor Lizzie, with her Sam was a sort of "forlorn hope," and everybody knew it, but Mrs. Stout did not spare her.

"It's usually pretty serious when he gets 'round to givin' his picture," she said. "I wouldn't have believed it, Miss Sawyer, because Sam ain't exactly your kind. To be sure he's got some good points, but he ain't literary a mite."

"Mrs. Stout," said Mrs. Tweedie, angrily, "we came here this morning to transact business connected with our entertainment, and not to meddle with the affairs of others."

"Well," replied Mrs. Stout, good-naturedly, "we seem to have done both pretty well."

"I must be going," said Mrs. Jones, as she jumped up and bustled about getting her things and began putting them on. The others followed her example and thus again was the rupture that seemed inevitable between Mrs. Tweedie and Mrs. Stout postponed.

When they had gone Miss Sawyer took the photograph of Sam Billings from the mantel, looked at it for a long time, and then, with a sigh which could not be suppressed, she hid the picture in a drawer beneath a package of photographs of forgotten friends.