s. The
invitations were all written in Mrs. Warren's near-Spencerian hand, the
t's expanding blottily at the tips, the curves of the capitals
suggesting in their sudden murky expansion, the Mississippi River after
its union with the muddy Missouri.

"As one of the representative women of Clematis, you are invited to
attend a meeting at the home of Mrs. Sophia Warren, Saturday the 12th
inst. at 2 P. M. Object of meeting, the organization of a Woman's Club
for the purpose of expanding the horizon of the individual members and
uplifting the community as a whole. Please be prompt."

The arrival of the postman while Persis was busy with a fitting, gave
Joel time to examine the mail and frame a withering denunciation of
Mrs. Warren's plan. He sprung the same upon his sister with
pyrotechnic effect a little later.

"A woman's club! Clematis is getting on. Pretty soon the women'll be
smoking cigarettes and wanting to run for mayor and letting their own
rightful sphere go to the everlasting bow-wows. Expand their horizons!
What's the good of a horizon to a woman who's got a house to look
after, and a man around to do her thinking for her? If women folks
nowadays worked as hard as their grandmothers did, we wouldn't hear any
of this nonsense about clubs. As good old Doctor Watts says:

"'For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'"

Persis, arranging a cascade of lace, over the voluptuous bosom of her
adjustable bust-form, stood back to get the effect. "Maybe you're
right, Joel," she acknowledged placidly, "but I'm going to that meeting
at Sophia Warren's Saturday if I have to sew all Friday night to get my
week's work out of the way."

In the face of masculine scoffs, which sometimes, as in Joel's case,
became denunciatory rather than humorous, about twenty of the
representative thirty Mrs. Warren had called from her list of
acquaintances, accepted the invitation and were on hand at the hour
designated. The opposition of sundry husbands and fathers, as well as
of those unattached males who disapproved of women's clubs on general
principles, had lent to the project the seductive flavor of forbidden
fruit. The women who donned their Sunday best that Saturday afternoon
had an exhilarating sense of adventure. Even Annabel Sinclair,
invariably bored by the society of her own sex, made her appearance
with the others and from her post of observation in the corner, noted
the effect of lavend