Then dropping her official manner, she added, "Let's keep it a dead
secret at first from the boys, because they never tell us anything
about their old Candle Club."

"What's that?" asked Ruth with great interest.

"Oh, six of the boys belong to it, and they've fixed up one of the
rooms above our stable," answered Dorothy. "They call it the Candle
Club because at first they used candles, but now the name doesn't
fit."

"They might call themselves 'electric sparks,' now," drawled
Charlotte; "but boys are so unprogressive."

"We shall need some more officers," said Betty. "I think Charlotte
ought to be secretary because she likes to write, and Ruth--"

What Ruth was to be was not destined to be told at that meeting,
for just at that moment there was a loud knock which made the
girls jump. Ruth opened the door and for a second saw no one. Then
a plump, curly-haired boy, very purple as to his face and hands,
and rather bedraggled as to his general appearance, walked in
hesitatingly. Close at his heels followed a depressed-looking Scotch
terrier. At sight of the latter, every individual hair on Fuzzy's
spine stood up straight, and with remarks in several different
languages he fled to the top of a high-backed chair, where he sat
and glared at the enemy.

The girls were convulsed with laughter, and the small visitor,
abashed, fled to Charlotte and buried his face in her lap.