“Then it means to do things for each other.  I like that.  Why couldn’t we put that in Article II?  It means ‘helping.’”

“How about qualifications, then?” asked Maurice.

“I don’t think I’d have any.  We’ll only ask the people we want.”

So reciprocity was added to Article II.  As he wrote, Maurice laughed.  “I’ll bet they won’t any of them know what it means,” he said.

“Then Article IV will be the watchword, ‘The Forest,’” added Rosalind.  “And, Maurice, don’t you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a badge?  But perhaps we’d better decide that at the next meeting.  Don’t you think it is going to be fun?”

Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must be impressed with the result of their afternoon’s work.  He had a new blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had already written:  “The Arden Foresters—­Secret Society,” and at Rosalind’s suggestion he now added the motto, “Good in everything.”

They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, “I am just crazy to show it to somebody.  Where is Katherine?”

But Maurice thought it wouldn’t be fair to the others to show it to her first.

The rain continued to patter against the window.  Rosalind sat with her elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written, and placed it in the book.

“Maurice,” she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of the bank president, “do you know Miss Celia Fair?”

“Miss Celia?  Why, of course I do.”

“Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship.  It’s funny,” Rosalind commented thoughtfully.  “Then you can tell me just what sort of a person she is.”

“She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia,” Maurice replied, with emphasis.

“Do you think she is kind?”

“Yes, indeed.  The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,—­the day you spoke to me through the hedge,—­she came in and sat on the step and tried to cheer me up.  Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind.”

“But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn’t know?” Rosalind persisted.

Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these inquiries.  “How can you be kind to people you don’t know?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you about it if you won’t tell.  You see I am not quite sure.”  Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the cemetery.  “She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at first, but she didn’t say anything after I told her my name, and when I looked back, I am sure—­almost sure—­saw her throw the rose away.”

“Miss Celia wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Maurice asserted stoutly.  “She couldn’t have any reason for it; she doesn’t know you.”

“Do you really think she wouldn’t?” Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief.  “You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,—­Belle said so,—­and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose.”