“That’s the way I feel about the city,” Edna said slowly, “it must be lovely to live there.”

Shirley laughed.  “It is.  I reckon just being alive anywhere such days as these ought to content one.  You haven’t been over to the manor lately, have you?  I mean since we came there.  We’re really getting the garden to look like a garden.  Reclaiming the wilderness, father calls it.  You’ll come over now, won’t you—­the club, I mean?”

“Why, of course,” Edna answered, she thought she would like to go.  “I suppose you’ve been over to the forts?”

“Lots of times—­father’s ever so interested in them, and it’s just a pleasant row across, after supper.”

“I have fasted too long, I must eat again,” Tom remarked, coming across the lawn.  “Miss Dayre, may I have the honor?”

“Are you conductor, or merely club president now?” Shirley asked.

“Oh, I’ve dropped into private life again.  There comes Hilary—­doesn’t look much like an invalid, does she?”

“But she didn’t look very well the first time I saw her,” Shirley answered.

The long supper table was laid under the apple trees at the foot of the garden, which in itself served to turn the occasion into a festive affair.

“You’ve given us a bully send-off, Mr. President,” Bob declared.  “It’s going to be sort of hard for the rest of us to keep up with you.”

“By the way,” Tom said, “Dr. Brice—­some of you may have heard of him—­would like to become an honorary member of this club.  Any contrary votes?”

“What’s an honorary member?” Patience asked.  Patience had been remarkably good that afternoon—­so good that Pauline began to feel worried, dreading the reaction.

“One who has all the fun and none of the work,” Tracy explained, a merry twinkle in his brown eyes.

Patience considered the matter.  “I shouldn’t mind the work; but mother won’t let me join regularly—­mother takes notions now and then—­but, please mayn’t I be an honorary member?”

“Onery, you mean, young lady!” Tracy corrected.

Patience flashed a pair of scornful eyes at him.  “Father says punning is the very lowest form of—­”

“Never mind, Patience,” Pauline said, “we haven’t answered Tom yet.  I vote we extend our thanks to the doctor for being willing to join.”

“He isn’t a bit more willing than I am,” Patience observed.  There was a general laugh among the real members, then Tom said, “If a Shaw votes for a Brice, I don’t very well see how a Brice can refuse to vote for a Shaw.”

“The motion is carried,” Bob seconded him.

“Subject to mother’s consent,” Pauline added, a quite unnecessary bit of elder sisterly interference, Patience thought.

“And now, even if it is telling on yourself, suppose you own up, old man?” Jack Ward turned to Tom.  “You see we don’t in the least credit you with having produced all that village history from your own stores of knowledge.”