We girls have formed a club for the "Abolition and Extirpation of Grotesque Idiotic Style."
Our initials, A, E, G, I, S, as you see, spell "Aegis," which is to be our shield (its literal meaning) from aristocratic scorn. I dare say I shall not be received in polite circles when I go home, but when I look at my ring, on which is engraved A E G I S, I shall gain such invulnerability that all sneers will glance aside ineffective.
There is a curious fact about our club and motto. Like the old English Cabal, we have five members whose initials form the name, viz.,
Anna Clifford, Enid Evans, Gertrude Wood, Ida Langford, Sallie Peterson.
I have given up curling my hair, and braid it. Of course it isn't becoming, but we Aegises stoop not to vanity. I have gained five pounds since Christmas; so when my spring suit is made, tell the dress-maker to put the extra material into the waist, and not waste it (a pun, but very poor) in puffs and paniers, for we have abolished them. We try to get along with the bare necessities of life.
I'd give a good deal to see you all, but I'm not the least bit homesick.
Good-by. Give my double-and-twisted love to everybody, and kiss the dear pink of a baby a hundred times for me.
P.S.--When you send the boots, perhaps if you put them in a fair-sized box, there'll be room for a cooky or two.
"Think of our dainty, exquisite Anna so independent! her pretty brown curls straightened out in a braid, and her dresses shorn of puffs and ruffles!"
"That's the kind of 'society' for school-girls to form," says papa. "I'll order the thickest boots I can find to be sent up; also a chicken for Bridget to roast; and as she has given us so delicate a hint, perhaps you can find something else to put in the box."
Afternoon finds the Clifford family again assembled in the dining-room, intent upon packing the boots and "cookies"; and from the size of the box on the table one would infer that the boots must be No. 17's, and the cookies as large as cheeses, or, more correctly, that something more is to be added.
"Wouldn't it be fine to send five things for the club individually?" asks one.
"Capital!" "Good!" "Just the thing!" cry all.
"E--Eels," suggests fourteen-year-old Dick, whose suggestions are apt to be more ludicrous than elegant.