the club, but, why, you must have read it
in the papers, Annie."

Annie looked guiltily ignorant.

"I really do not see how you contrive to exist without keeping more
in touch with the current events," said Margaret.

Annie looked meekly culpable, although she was not. Her aunts did not
approve of newspapers, as containing so much information, so much
cheap information concerning the evil in the world, especially for a
young person like Annie, and she was not allowed to read them,
although she sometimes did so surreptitiously.

"It was in all the papers," continued Margaret, with her censorious
air. "Lydia Greenway was obliged to leave unexpectedly and go to the
Riveria. They fear tuberculosis. She sailed last Saturday."

"I am so sorry," said Annie. Then she proceeded to elaborate her
statement in exactly the wrong way. She said how very dreadful it
would be if such a talented young actress should fall a victim of
such a terrible disease, and what a loss she would be to the public,
whereas all that Margaret Edes thought should be at all considered by
any true friend of her own was her own particular loss.

"For once the Zenith Club would have had a meeting calculated to take
Fairbridge women out of their rut in which people like Mrs. Slade and
Mrs. Sturtevant seem determined to keep them," returned Margaret
testily. Annie stared at her. Margaret often said that it was the
first rule of her life never to speak ill of any one, and she kept
the letter of it as a rule.

"I am so sorry," said Annie. Then she added with more tact. "It would
have been such a wonderful thing for us all to have had Lydia
Greenway give dramatic recitals to us. Oh, Margaret, I can understand
how much it would have meant."

"It would have meant progress," said Margaret. She looked imperiously
lovely, as she sat there all frilled about with white lace and silk
with the leaf-shadows playing over the slender whiteness. She lifted
one little hand tragically. "Progress," she repeated. "Progress
beyond Mrs. George B. Slade's and Mrs. Sturtevant's and Miss Bessy
Dicky's, and that is precisely what we need."

Annie Eustace gazed wistfully upon her friend. "Yes," she agreed,
"you are quite right, Margaret. Mrs. Slade and Mrs. Sturtevant and
poor Bessy Dicky and all the other members are very good, and we
think highly of them, but I too feel that we all travel in a rut
sometimes. Perhaps we all walk too much the same way." Then suddenly
Annie