"You might tell us where we are going,
now, Paul," Josie urged.
Pauline shook her head. "You wait until
Friday, like good little girls. Mind, you all
bring wraps; it'll be chilly coming home."
Pauline's turn was to be the final wind-up
of the club's regular outings. No one outside
the home folks, excepting Tom, had been
taken into her confidence--it had been
necessary to press him into service. And when, on
Friday afternoon, the young people gathered
at the parsonage, all but those named were
still in the dark.
Besides the regular members, Mrs. Shaw,
Mr. Dayre, Mr. Allen, Harry Oram and Patience
were there; the minister and Dr. Brice
had promised to join the party later if possible.
As a rule, the club picnics were cooperative
affairs; but to-day the members, by special
request, arrived empty-handed. Mr. Paul
Shaw, learning that Pauline's turn was yet to
come, had insisted on having a share in it.
"I am greatly interested in this club," he
had explained. "I like results, and I think,"
he glanced at Hilary's bright happy face,
"that the 'S. W. F. Club' has achieved at least
one very good result."
And on the morning before the eventful
Friday, a hamper had arrived from New
York, the watching of the unpacking of which
had again transformed Patience, for the time,
from an interrogation to an exclamation point.
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