CHAPTER I.

THE Poplar Street Pansy Society began with a large membership and every other flattering prospect. The leaders were wide awake, bright boys and girls who meant success, come what might. Everything went on finely for the first year. Meetings were held regularly; the attendance included nearly all the members every time, in bad weather as well as good, and no matter what invitations were given elsewhere to parties or rides. The members, with rare exceptions, were thoroughly loyal to their society.

This became so well known that, at length, when entertainments were about to be given at the same time of the society meetings its members were passed by when the lists of invitations were being made out, for it was commonly said you might as well invite the man in the moon as one of the Poplar Street Society; that they would not leave that dear society to see the Emperor of China pass through the city. Some were cruel enough to say that these Pansies just worshiped their society.

In spite of all the outside parties and sneers the society kept right on its way. At last it grew to be such a power, so many of the young folks had joined it, that ladies, wishing a company of the youth at their homes, were compelled to consult the convenience of the Poplar Street Pansy Society.

If there was to be a meeting of the society at a certain time, particularly if it was to be a public one, everything must needs yield to it. Thither the fathers and mothers would go, no matter what other attractions offered.

Thus this Poplar Street Society came to be known as the popular society.

But the Roman Empire had its decline and fall. Why should not this society? Certain boys and girls had come in who cared more for place than for progress. They wanted to be highly thought of and to receive the offices. On one occasion four of them insisted upon being chosen president. Of course three of the four were offended and declared they would withdraw.

Some others said they must be appointed on the programme committee and be allowed to manage things generally or they would establish a rival society. A few insisted that the time had now come for a change; that the old programme of singing, recitations, games, etc., was poky; that a little dancing and card-playing ought to be allowed a part of the time.

To this it was answered that the Poplar Street Pansy Society was established for mental and moral growth and not for a dancing-school or card-party; that those who must have such things could find them elsewhere.

Thus a division came. Two parties arose. The matter was discussed in the schoolroom and three times daily in forty or more different dining-rooms. Many bitter things were said. The meetings would sometimes break up in confusion. Then some parents interfered by refusing to allow their children to attend. The dance and card portion withdrew. Several who wanted the offices or wished to have the most to say, came no more. Some had moved out of the city.

So there came a time when a very few attended the meeting. The many empty seats filled the few present with sadness. Then came a motion to dissolve the society; it was seconded, put and lost by one vote only. Then it was resolved to appoint a committee who should confer with some wise ones and see what could be done and report at the next meeting, or, if they thought best, adjourn the society till better times.

The committee consisted of two boys and one girl, this girl being the very one whose perseverance had brought the society into being and held it together at times when it seemed ready to go to pieces.

She invited her two friends to meet at her father’s house to see what was best to be done. Meanwhile she had done a deal of thinking for herself and had carried the matter to her mother for guidance.

Things looked dark enough for her dear society. Her mother even doubted if anything could be done while there was such an opposition, and the best she could say was to let matters rest for the present, till the dancers and others had had their round of fun.

This brave girl had seen too much good in the society, and hungered for more too deeply to easily give it up.

She had a great Friend to whom all her troubles were carried. She took this one to Him.

The committee came together,—two doubting boys and one true girl,—full of faith and purpose to stand by the society. The boys had settled the matter in their minds to let the society die as things then stood; that further effort would but result in failure, and make them a laughing-stock,—to be laughed at was not for a moment to be thought of,—unless there should be some most favorable turn of affairs.

Thus the conference opened, two to one against the life of the P. S. P. S., as the society was sometimes called.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” began our little heroine to the two, after they were seated and the moment had come for business. “These have been pretty dark days for me; I’ve been on the point of crying nearly all the time.”

“So have we,” came from the boys, “but what’s the use crying for spilt milk! The society’s as good as dead. Every one we’ve met says so, and now all that’s left for us is just to bury it respectably, and try something else. Guess you’ve come to that conclusion, too, haven’t you?”

“No; not I,” was the firm answer. “Our society began with one member and here we have three to build it up on again. I’m sure three are more than one.”

“Don’t know how you make three. You can’t count upon us. We see no chance now, and are ready to vote to end the P. S. P. S.”

“I am not ready.”

“But we are two to your one, and you know majorities rule.”

“And you, who have stood by the society so long, are surely not going to desert it when it needs you most?”

“Nothing left to desert. You see, Jennie, the thing is gone up.”

And Jennie’s answer was a look of pain. There was silence, then a sigh and audible sob heard in the next room, where were Jennie’s father and Uncle John. Uncle John had come from a distant town for a visit of some weeks. He was a lover of the boys and girls, and when he knew the object of the meeting of the committee was to discuss the life or death of the Poplar Street Pansy Society, and that Jennie’s heart was bound up in that society, he immediately set himself, without telling any one, to devise ways and means to come to Jennie’s rescue.

So he had caught every word from the little committee folks in the next room, and when the crisis came and poor Jennie was about to be out-voted, he spoke out:

“Jennie?”

“That’s my Uncle John. I wonder if he’s heard all we’ve said,” and Jennie’s voice was in a whisper, and quickly her handkerchief stole to her eye to brush away the tears that had been starting. He spoke again:

“Jennie?”

“Sir?”

“Cannot I counsel with your committee?”

“O, yes, Uncle John, do, do!” and with the words the door flew open, and Uncle John was introduced to the two boys.

After a few cheery remarks, the committee was asked not to take any action just then, but to call a meeting and talk the matter over once more, with as many present as could be induced to attend, Uncle John asking permission to be present and make any suggestion that might occur to him, remarking, with an assuring nod of his head, that the Poplar Street Pansy Society need not and should not die yet if the girls and boys would let him keep it alive.

The committee looked at each other surprised; the two boys somewhat ashamed of their part of the conference, Jennie ready to cry for joy.

That night at her bedside she said: “I thank thee, dear Lord, for hearing me in my trouble. I thank thee for sending Uncle John just at the right time.”

The boys went home in silence; but the brave girl dreamed of a good time coming.