waters under the earth."

"Your guesses are not far out of the way," said Patty composedly. "I will
not attempt to deny that that complicated and exceedingly Frenchified
salad is concocted from certain remainders that were set away in the
refrigerator after yesterday's dinner."

"Who would have believed it?" exclaimed Frank, looking at his plate with
mock awe and reverence.

"Materials count for very little in a salad," said Marian, with a wise
and didactic air. "Its whole success depends on the way it is put
together."

"Now, that's a true compliment," said Patty; "and it is mine, for I made
this salad all myself."

After dinner they adjourned to the library, and the girls fell to making
plans for the Tea Club, which was to meet there next day.

"I do think," said Marian, "it's awfully mean of Helen Preston to insist
on having a bazaar. They're so old-fashioned and silly; and we could get
up some novel entertainment that would make just as much money, and be a
lot more fun besides."

"I know it," said Patty. "I just hate bazaars; with their everlasting
Rebeccas at the Well, and flower-girls, and fish-ponds, and gipsy-tents.
But, then, what could we have?"

"Why, there are two or three of those little acting shows that Elsie