“Well,” said Hilda, “I’m not sure that I ought to be president of the Grigs, after all, for I have to confess that I couldn’t find anybody to make fun for except our old cat. But if you could see her, I’m sure you’d agree that she’s a worthy object. She’s so old that she’s both blind and deaf; and she’s so melancholy that it’s enough to make you weep to look at her. I amused her and played with her and tried to make her think she was a kitten again; but it was no go, and I finally had to resort to one of those patent catnip-balls. That worked like a charm, and in a few moments she was rolling around in glee and cutting up all sorts of antics. So you see what perseverance will accomplish.”

“Far be it from me,” said Patty, “to criticise the deeds of our worthy president; and I suppose cats want some fun in their lives as well as people.”

“They ought to have nine times as much,” said Hilda, “for they have nine lives and we have only one.”

“I’ve nothing more to say,” said Patty; “our president has quite justified herself, and her effort was nine times as meritorious as any of ours.”

“Well, I think the whole thing is fun,” said Clementine, “and next week I mean to do something startling. I think I’ll go and call on our minister. He is the solemnest man I know and I’d just like to see if he could laugh. I’ll take ‘Alice In Wonderland,’ and read aloud to him, and see if I can make him smile.”

“Lewis Carroll was a clergyman himself,” said Hilda; “so probably your minister is familiar with his works.”

“Probably he isn’t,” returned Clementine; “you don’t know our minister. I don’t believe he ever read anything more frivolous than ‘Foxe’s Book of Martyrs’ or the ‘Lamentations of Jeremiah.’?”

“Then do go,” said Flossy, “and I’ll go with you. It would take two of us to make a man like that smile. But I’ve finished this scrap-book, and my! but it’s a pretty one. Observe those yellow daffodils on the cover and the lion under them. That’s a most humorous decoration, besides being artistically beautiful.”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Editha, looking at the book Flossy held up so proudly. “It’s enough to make a cat laugh!”

“Then I’ll send it home to Hilda’s cat,” said Flossy quickly; “it may help to brighten one of her nine sad lives.”

By this time it was nearly noon, and though they had enjoyed the work, the girls were nevertheless pleased when they saw a maid come in at the door with a large tray which held seven cups of cocoa and piled-up plates of sandwiches.

“Do you know that tray makes me laugh more than these scrap-books, with all their side-splitting pictures,” said Clementine.

“Yes, it’s the merriest thing I’ve seen this morning,” said Adelaide; “it really puts me in quite a good humour; I wouldn’t even be cross with Editha just now.”

The Grigs did full justice to Mrs. Morse’s hospitality, and then that lady herself came into the play-room.

She was most enthusiastic over the girls’ morning work and quite agreed that they were true missionaries in their chosen field.

“And now,” she said, “I have an omnibus at the door and if you’ll all bundle into it I’ll take you around to the hospital; for the matron telephoned that we might come to-day between twelve and one o’clock. I have been hunting up a lot of comic papers and humorous books to take along; and I have some flowers, too, for there are some people who are too ill to read, but who can be cheered by fresh blossoms.”

Patty looked admiringly at Mrs. Morse, who was a lady after her own heart, and more than ever she felt reminded of Aunt Alice.

The girls gathered up their scrap-books and dolls and toys and found to their delight that they had a large basketful.

Downstairs they went, donned their hats and coats and started for the hospital.

The big roomy vehicle held the eight easily, and they laughed and chattered in a fashion quite suited to their avowed character.

Mrs. Morse had explained the situation to Miss Bidwell, the hospital matron, and that good lady was pleased to see the seven merry Grigs.

Cautioning them to be quiet while going through the halls, she led them to the convalescent ward, where a score or more wan-faced children looked at them wonderingly.

The girls had arranged their programme beforehand. Standing in the middle of the room, where all the little patients could see her, Flossy recited some funny poetry. Her happy, smiling face and her comical words and gestures proved quite as amusing as the girls had hoped, and the little sick children laughed aloud in glee.

Then Clementine sang some nonsense-songs, and after that Hilda told a funny story. Hilda was a born mimic and her representation of the different characters pleased the children greatly.

After this the girls went around separately to the various little cots, and talked to the invalids personally. There were so many of the children that in order not to neglect any, the interview was necessarily short with each one. But there was time for a little merry conversation with each, besides presenting the gifts they had brought.

Patty was particularly attracted by a little boy about eight years old, who had broken his leg. The little fellow’s face was white and drawn with suffering, and his sad eyes made him seem far older than he really was. Instinctively, Patty made up her mind to bring all the pleasure and merriment into that child’s life that she possibly could; and just because he seemed to be the forlornest specimen of humanity present, she resolved to make him her special charge. His name, he said, was Tommy Skelling, and his leg had been broken in a trolley accident. But it was a compound fracture, and caused the boy almost continuous pain and suffering. It seemed especially pathetic even to try to make the little chap laugh, but Patty felt sure that diversion would do him more good than sympathy. So she told him the funniest story she knew, and picked out the funniest scrap-book for him. She was rewarded by finding him very appreciative, and succeeded in making him forget his pain for the moment, and laugh heartily at her fun.

As the girls were taking leave Tommy confided to Patty his opinion of the club.

“You’re the nicest one,” ............