“We’d better change our names from May Flowers to sisters of charity, and wear meek black bonnets and flapping cloaks.”

Anna received these replies with great composure, and waited for the meeting to come to order, well knowing that the girls would have their fun and outcry first, and then set to work in good earnest.

“I think it’s a lovely idea, and I’ll carry out my plan.  But I won’t tell what it is yet; you’d all shout, and say I couldn’t do it, but if you were trying also, that would keep me up to the mark,” said Lizzie, with a decided snap of her scissors, as she trimmed the edges of a plush case for her beloved music.

“Suppose we all keep our attempts secret, and not let our right hand know what the left hand does?  It’s such fun to mystify people, and then no one can laugh at us.  If we fail, we can say nothing; if we succeed, we can tell of it and get our reward.  I’d like that way, and will look round at once for some especially horrid boot-black, ungrateful old woman, or ugly child, and devote myself to him, her, or it with the patience of a saint,” cried Maggie, caught by the idea of doing good in secret and being found out by accident.

The other girls agreed, after some discussion, and then Anna took the floor again.

“I propose that we each work in our own way till next May, then, at our last meeting, report what we have done, truly and honestly, and plan something better for next year.  Is it a vote?”

It evidently was a unanimous vote, for five gold thimbles went up, and five blooming faces smiled as the five girlish voices cried, “Aye!”

“Very well, now let us decide what to read, and begin at once.  I think the ‘Prisoners’ a good book, and we shall doubtless get some hints from it.”

So they began, and for an hour one pleasant voice after the other read aloud those sad, true stories of workingwomen and their hard lives, showing these gay young creatures what their pretty clothes cost the real makers of them, and how much injustice, suffering, and wasted strength went into them.  It was very sober reading, but most absorbing; for the crochet needles went slower and slower, the lace-work lay idle, and a great tear shone like a drop of dew on the apple blossoms as Ella listened to “Rose’s Story.”  They skipped the statistics, and dipped here and there as each took her turn; but when the two hours were over, and it was time for the club to adjourn, all the members were deeply interested in that pathetic book, and more in earnest than before; for this glimpse into other lives showed them how much help was needed, and made them anxious to lend a hand,

“We can’t do much, being ‘only girls,’” said Anna; “but if each does one small chore somewhere it will pave the way for better work; so we will all try, at least, though it seems like so many ants trying to move a mountain.”

“Well, ants build nests higher than a man’s head in Africa; you remember the picture of them in our old geographies?  And we can do as much, I’m sure, if each tugs her pebble or straw faithfully.  I shall shoulder mine to-morrow if Mamma is willing,” answered Lizzie, shutting up her work-bag as if she had her resolution inside and was afraid it might evaporate before she got home.