One afternoon the Tea Club was holding its weekly meeting at Marian’s.

“Do you know,” Elsie Morris was saying, “that the Babies’ Hospital is in need of funds again?  Those infants are perfect gormandisers.  I don’t see how they can eat so much or wear so many clothes.”

“Babies always wear lots of clothes,” said Lillian Desmond, with an air of great wisdom.  “I’ve seen them; they just bundle them up in everything they can find, and then wrap more things around them.”

“Well, they’ve used up all their wrappings,” said Elsie Morris, “and they want more.  I met Mrs. Greenleaf this morning in the street, and she stopped me to ask if we girls wouldn’t raise some more money for them somehow.”

“Oh, dear!” said Florence Douglass.  “They just want us to work all the time for the old hospital; I’m tired of it.”

“Why, Florence!” said Patty.  “We haven’t done a thing since we had that play last winter.  I think it would be very nice to have some entertainment or something and make some money for them again.  We could have some summery outdoorsy kind of a thing like a lawn party, you know.”

“Yes,” said Laura Russell, “and have it rain and spoil everything; and soak all the Chinese lanterns, and drench all the people’s clothes, and everybody would run into the house and track mud all over.  Oh, it would be lovely!”

“What a cheerful view you do take of things, Laura,” said Elsie Morris.  “Now, you know it’s just as likely not to rain as to rain.”

“More likely,” said Nan.  “It doesn’t rain twice as often as it rains.  Now I believe it would be a beautiful bright day, or moonlight night, whichever you have the party, and nobody will get their clothes spoiled, and the lanterns will burn lovely, and you will have a big crowd, and it would be a howling success, and you’d make an awful lot of money.”

“That picture sounds very attractive,” said Polly Stevens, “and I say let’s do it.  But somehow I don’t like a lawn party—­it’s so tame.  Let’s have something real novel and original.  Nan, you must know of something.”

“I don’t,” said Nan.  “I’m stupid as an owl about such things.  But if you can decide on something to have, I’ll help all I can with it.”

“And Nan’s awful good help!” put in Bumble.  “She works and works and works, and never gets tired.  I’ll help, too; I’d love to, only I’m not much good.”

“We’ll take all the help that’s offered,” said Elsie Morris, “of any quality whatsoever.  But what can the show be?”

No amount of thinking or discussion seemed to suggest any novel enterprise by which a fortune could be made at short notice, and at last Nan said:  “I should think, Patty, that Mr. Hepworth could help.  He’s always having queer sorts of performances in his studio.  Don’t you know the Mock Art exhibition he told us about?”

“Oh, yes,” said Patty; “he’d be sure to know of something for us to do; and I think he’s coming out with papa to-night.  I’ll ask him.”