"I don't mean them to be washed out," said Ethel, calmly going on with
her art work; "they're not wash drawings, they're permanent decorations
for your cuffs, and are offered as a token of deep regard and esteem."

The Tea Club was holding a Saturday afternoon meeting at Polly Stevens's
house, and the conversation, as yet, had not strayed far from the
all-engrossing subject of Patty's future plans.

The Tea Club had begun its existence with lofty and noble aims in a
literary direction, to be supplemented and assisted by an occasional
social cup of tea. But if you have had any experience with merry, healthy
young girls of about sixteen, you will not be surprised to learn that
the literary element had softly and suddenly vanished away, much after
the manner of a Boojum. Then, somehow, the social interest grew stronger,
and the tea element held its own, and the result was a most satisfactory
club, if not an instructive one.

"But," as Polly Stevens had said, "we are instructed all day long in
school, and a good deal out of school, too, for that matter; and what we
need most is absolutely foolish recreation; the foolisher the better."

And so the Saturday afternoon meetings had developed into merely merry
frolics, with a cup of tea, which was often a figure of speech for
chocolate or lemonade, at the close.

There were no rules, and the girls took pleasure in calling themselves
unruly members. There were no dues, and consequently no occasion for a
secretary or treasures. Patty continued to be called the president, but
the title meant nothing more than the fact that she was really a chief
favourite among the girls. No one was bound, or even expected to attend