As a society the Grigs prospered.

The next meeting was at Clementine’s, and was a very busy and merry one. Patty had never been to Clementine’s home before, and she was delighted with the large beautiful house, and also with Clementine’s mother, who was a sweet-faced, pleasant-mannered lady, and who reminded her a little bit of Aunt Alice.

After the members had all arrived, Clementine took them to a room on the third floor which was her own especial domain.

“We always call it the play-room,” she said, “because it was my play-room when I was a little child. Lately I’ve tried to have them call it studio, or library, or even den; but somehow the old name sticks and we always say—play-room.”

The room itself was most attractive, with books, and games, and toys in abundance. In the middle of the room was a long low table, and the girls gathered about this eager to begin the work they had planned to do. For though only their second meeting, the Grigs had arranged during the week many plans for the furtherance of the ends and aims of their club.

So Clementine had provided scissors and paste, pencils and sewing materials, and soon the work was in progress.

Some made scrap-books, with muslin leaves, while others cut out bright-coloured pictures to paste in these books.

These were intended for the children in a certain nearby hospital.

“Of course,” said Editha Hart, “these scrap-books are no novelty. Every girl I’ve ever known has made muslin scrap-books for hospitals at some time in her life. But these are different, because they’re filled with really funny pictures.”

“Yes,” said Mary Sargent, “I’ve seen the scrap-books some girls make. The pictures are usually advertising cards, or else stupid old black-and-white things that couldn’t amuse anybody. These coloured supplement pictures are certainly funny, if they aren’t the very best type of high art.”

“If they make the children laugh, our work is accomplished,” said Patty.

“What we want to do,” said Clementine, “is to make two smiles grow where one grew before.”

“Clementine is a walking Literature Class, isn’t she?” said Flossy Fisher, admiringly; “we had something like that in the lesson yesterday. But where are the peanuts? Did anyone bring any?”

“Yes, here’s a bagful,” said Adelaide; “hurry up and get them together, while I make the pig-tails.”

Flossy’s task was the making of funny little Chinese dolls by stringing peanuts together; while Adelaide braided coarse black thread into little queues for them, and Hilda made fantastic costumes out of Japanese paper napkins.

Editha was engaged in producing wonderful effects, with nothing but sheets of cotton-wadding and a box of water-colour paints. She deftly rolled, tied and draped the material into a comical doll, and then cleverly painted features, hair, hands and dress trimmings, until the whole was a work of art.

“Now, you know,” said Hilda, after all the girls had settled down to work, “we’re to tell our experiences during the week, in the way of helping along the gaiety of the nation. Patty Fairfield, what have you done to make somebody else as merry as a Grig?”

“Well,” said Patty, apologetically, “I really haven’t had many opportunities, though I tried hard to make some. The trouble is, my family and most of my friends are merry, anyhow, and they don’t need any chirking up. And of course I couldn’t go out into the highways and hedges. But I had one experience which I think will count, and I’ll tell you about it. I was going up in the elevator yesterday, and I stood next to a lady, whom I know slightly. Her name is Miss Dennison and she lives in The Wilberforce. She is a writer or something—anyway, she makes speeches at women’s conventions or club meetings. Well, she never is very merry-looking, but yesterday she looked cross enough to bite a ten-penny nail into ten pennies. I was almost afraid to get into the elevator for fear she’d snap my head off; and the elevator boy was positively quaking in his boots.”

“I know that Miss Dennison,” said Adelaide; “she’s most awe-inspiring. I think she’s a Woman’s Rights Suffragist, or whatever you call them.”

“Yes, that’s the one,” said Patty, “and yesterday, although she didn’t say anything, I could see at a glance that she was in a terrible temper about something. So it struck me all of a sudden that here was a chance to scatter a little merriment her way, and see if she’d pick it up. So I just said, ‘What are you laughing at, Miss Dennison?’ and then I began to laugh.”

“I don’t see how you dared,” said Editha. “What did she say?”

“Why, at first she looked at me in amazement, and then, as I was chuckling with laughter, somehow she had to smile, too. And really, girls, when she smiles she looks almost pretty. Well, by that time we had reached our floor, so we both got off and walked along the hall together. ‘Laughing!’ she said, and she glared at me fearfully; ‘indeed I’m not laughing! I’m angry enough to—to——’ and she was so angry she couldn’t think what she was angry enough to do. The more excited she got, the more I laughed, partly because I wanted to make her laugh, too, and partly because she was so funny. When we reached her apartment she was still blustering and informing me how angry she was, though I had no idea what it was all about. Then she said: ‘Just come in here a minute and I’ll show you—and see if you wouldn’t be angry, too!’ So she took me into her room and there on the bed lay the most beautiful dress you ever saw. It was black lace, with spangles all over it, and twists of orange-coloured velvet here and there. ‘Look at that!’ she cried, ‘look at that!’ So I looked at it and I laughed some more, and I said: ‘Why, it’s a beautiful gown; I don’t see anything about that to make you so angry.’ And then she said: ‘Oh, you don’t, don’t you? Well, just let me tell you that my dressmaker has just sent it home; and I expected to wear it this evening, when I’m to make an address at a meeting of the Federation. And I can’t wear it!’ Girls, the tragickness of her face and voice as she said that really made me stop laughing. I said: ‘Why not?’ in an awe-struck whisper. Then she explained that it didn’t fit; it was too long in the waist and too short in the skirt, and too tight in the neck, and too loose in the sleeves; maybe I haven’t the details just right, but anyhow everything seemed to be the matter with it. So you see it was a cl............