212 “TROTTY'S WEDDING TOUR.

kill a woodchuck ; now you know you could n’t! I put it to
your honor, ladies, could you?”

The President of the Tatting Club shuddered under her
soft blue veil. It was a tough question. On her honor, could
she? The Tatting Club retired to the wood-pile to consider.
The Woodchuck Society swung on the gate, and considered too.

“The fact is,” said the Chairman, under his breath, “ I’ve
half a mind to take ’em along.”

“And, besides,’ the President was saying, under her
breath, “ what of that? Time enough for that, is n’t there?”

‘Time enough for that,” nodded the Tatting Club.

““ Well, then-!”’ said the President.

“ Well, then?” said the Chairman.

The Tatting Club descended from the wood-pile ; the Presi-
dent smiled sweetly through her thin blue veil.

“ We have come to the conclusion, sir,’ she said, “that if
you will admit us into the Society, the matter of — of — kill
ing a woodchuck need not stand at all in the way.”

“ Not at all in the way,’”’ nodded the Tatting Club.

“In that case,” said the Chairman, hesitating, ‘I don’t
know but we may as well give you a try.”

This is how the Tatting Club obtained admission to the
Woodchuck Society on that Wednesday afternoon, when the
sky cleaned up her silver, and the mud-puddles lay in the
school-house yard.

Never had the Tatting Club spent such a Wednesday after-
noon. They nodded to each other to make sure of that. The