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“All right—later on,” agreed Marjorie. “But now I want to meet the others.”

The club room was a small one, furnished in the usual plain but cozy style adapted by most of the up-to-date settlement houses. Miss Winthrop occupied a chair beside a substantial mission-table, and two of the girls were perched on top of it, talking in animated tones with the leader. Two or three of the others were apparently listening to the conversation, while over on the window sill, an exceedingly stout young lady was giggling and whispering with a tall slender one. Marjorie took them all in at a glance, and with some difficulty identified them with the elaborately dressed maidens of the dance. They all looked different, she decided, but undoubtedly better.

“Well, Miss Wilkinson, we’re all here—and all glad to see you,” said Miss Winthrop cordially. “I think Queenie had better do the introducing, however, for she is more sure of the names than I am.”

“Oh, she can’t remember them all, anyhow,” protested Queenie, rather embarrassed by the formality of an introduction. “So I won’t have to repeat them—girls—meet Miss Wilkinson!”