ep."

She laid down again in the narrow space left by her visitors. They paid
no attention to her inhospitality, but drawing their bath robes closer
about them, settled down to talk. Patty, being comfortably inside and
warm, while they shivered outside, was finally induced to lend a drowsy
ear.

"I've thought of a new society," said Mae Mertelle. She did not propose
to share the honor of creation with Rosalie. "And it's going to be
_really_ secret this time. I'm not going to let in the whole school.
Only us three. And this society hasn't just a few silly secrets; it has
an _aim_."

"We're going to call it the Society of Associated Sirens," Rosalie
eagerly broke in.

"That _what_?" demanded Patty.

Rosalie rolled off the sonorous syllables a second time.

"The Sho-shiety of Ash-sho-she-ated Shi-rens," Patty mumbled sleepily.
"It's too hard to say."

"Oh, but we won't call it that in public. The name's a secret. We'll
call it the S. A. S."

"What's it for?"

"You'll promise not to tell?" Mae asked guardedly.

"No, of course I won't tell."

"Not even Pris and Conny when they get back?"

"We'll make them members," said Patty.

"Well--perhaps--but this is the kind of society that's better small. And
we three are the only ones who really ought to be members, because we
saw the play. But anyhow; you must promise not to tell unless Rosalie
and I give you permission. Do you promise that?"

"Oh, yes! I promise. What's it for?"

"We're going to become sirens," Mae whispered impressively. "We're going
to be beautiful and fascinating and ruthless--"

"Like Cleopatra," said Rosalie.

"And avenge ourselves on Man," added Mae.

"Avenge ourselves--what for?" inquired Patty, somewhat dazed.

"Why--for--for breaking our hearts and destroying our faith in--"

"My heart hasn't been broken."

"Not yet," said Mae with a touch of impatience, "because you don't know
any men, but you will know them some day, and then your heart will be
broken. You ought to have your weapons ready."

"In time of peace prepare for war," quoted Rosalie.

"Do--you think it's quite ladylike to be a siren?" asked Patty
dubiously.

"It's _perfectly_ ladylike!" said Mae. "Nobody but a lady could possibly
be one. Did you ever hear of a washerwoman who was a siren?"

"N-no," Patty confessed. "I don't believe I have."

"And look at Cleopatra," put in Rosalie. "I'm sure she was a lady."

"All right!" Patty agreed. "What are we going to do