the next rule ought to be that we won't tell the
boys?" asked Edna. "I just know they will tease us out of our senses."

So rule five was duly registered, to the effect that strict secrecy was
to be observed, and that they would tell no one but grandma and Auntie
Jean.

"There must be another by-law," put in Cricket, reflectively, here,
"for we must have some badges, like Marjorie's society."

"What are they?" asked Edna.

"Marjorie took a dime and had the jeweller rub it off smooth, and put
some letters on it. We could have E. C. put on ours. Then he put a
little pin on it, and she wears it all the time. Don't you suppose
auntie would see about them for us?"

"I'm sure she would. She would lend us the money, I guess, and let us
make it up from our allowances."

So the next regulation read:

"Buy-law two. We will have badges, made of dimes, with E. C. on them,
and will ask mamma to let us have the money for them."

"Doesn't that look club-by?" exclaimed Cricket, enthusiastically,
surveying the neatly written page, with its rules and "buy-laws."

"You ought to be the first editor, Edna, for you do write
_beau_tifully."

"You write my stories, and I'll print the paper, any time," said Edna,
brightening.

"No, I won't. I won't let you wiggle out of writing your stories, Edna,
if I print _all_ the papers. Come, girls, I'm nearly dead with sitting
still so long," added Cricket, springing up. "Let's go to ride."

"No, I thank you. This is all I want to do, this hot day," answered
Edna, stretching herself out on the sand, with her head in Eunice's lap.

"Oh, lazybones! I'm going to find old Billy, and take him to ride.
Good-by!"

CHAPTER XI.

"THE ECHO."

"Girls, we forgot one very important thing," said Cricket, suddenly
pausing in her work of copying out carefully, in print, on legal cap,
the much-interlined and very untidy looking manuscripts that had been
handed in. The three girls were sitting cosily in one end of the broad
piazza, Edna lying back in a bamboo steamer chair, reading, Eunice in
the hammock, while Cricket, at the table, with both feet curled up on
the round of her chair, worked industriously.

"What did we forget?" asked Edna, languidly.

"We forgot to choose names for ourselves, as Jo and the rest did. I
don't want to sign just plain Edna Somers to your piece."

"I'm sure I don't want you to," said Edna, with sudden energy. "I just
hate my name. I wish mamma hadn't named me