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“Virg, I believe that you actually would give up the post of honor that you have won,” Margaret declared that evening as she prepared for a second meeting of The Adventure Club.

“Why not?” the girl addressed glanced up brightly. “It was an honor thrust upon me, not one that I coveted. It isn’t bringing me any great happiness and it has brought me an enemy. Who will, may have it, or, I mean, could-if it were within my power to dispose of it, but Miss Torrence has expressed her desire that I retain the position whether or not we receive contributions considered worthy of acceptance.”

“Betsy declares that she is going to submit a poem.” This from Sally who was less timid than she had been at a previous meeting. Then she tittered in a way which made her seem even more foolish than she really was. “That’s why she’s late. She’s sitting curled up in our room writing it now.”

“The Fates deliver us from any poetry that Betsy might write,” Margaret had just said when there came a pounding on the door, and, clad in her cherry-red bath robe, the object of their conversation burst into the room waving a sheet of foolscap paper. “It’s done! The day is saved. Never before will there have been an edition of The Manuscript Magazine to contain a literary gem like this.”