Part 17 (1/2)

”Suppose n.o.body dies, or gets married, that we know of?” asked literal Edna.

”Make them up, child,” answered Cricket, with a funny air of superiority. ”In a paper you can make up _any_thing. It doesn't have to be true. Don't you know how often papa says 'that's only a newspaper story?'”

”Making them up is just the trouble,” persisted Edna. ”If anybody really died, or married, or anything, it would be easy enough to write of it, of course. How silly people are who make real newspapers. Why do they ever make up anything, when real things are happening all the time?”

”It's more fun to make things up,” answered Cricket, from the depths of her experience. ”But we can write about that old red hen, and about poor little Wallops”--referring to a little black cat, lately deceased. ”Then each of you must send me in some things besides your stories, and I'll make some up myself. Let's appoint next Tuesday for a meeting, if I can get the paper done. If I don't, we'll have it as soon as I can get it ready.”

”Shall that be a rule?” laughed Eunice.

”No, miss. But suppose we make this a rule--how many rules have we now?”

”Three,” said Edna, referring to the const.i.tution.

”Then rule four: 'The paper shall be read on Wednesday afternoons, at three o'clock, in Rocky Nook.' Why, girls! I made up that name just then!” interrupting herself, in her surprise.

”It's a splendid name,” the girls said.

”We might call it 'Exiles' Bower,'” laughed Edna, teasingly, for the boys had given that name to Bear Island since the girls' imprisonment there.

”If you like,” said Cricket, the unteasable, serenely.

”Don't you think that the next rule ought to be that we won't tell the boys?” asked Edna. ”I just know they will tease us out of our senses.”

So rule five was duly registered, to the effect that strict secrecy was to be observed, and that they would tell no one but grandma and Auntie Jean.

”There must be another by-law,” put in Cricket, reflectively, here, ”for we must have some badges, like Marjorie's society.”

”What are they?” asked Edna.

”Marjorie took a dime and had the jeweller rub it off smooth, and put some letters on it. We could have E. C. put on ours. Then he put a little pin on it, and she wears it all the time. Don't you suppose auntie would see about them for us?”

”I'm sure she would. She would lend us the money, I guess, and let us make it up from our allowances.”

So the next regulation read:

”Buy-law two. We will have badges, made of dimes, with E. C. on them, and will ask mamma to let us have the money for them.”

”Doesn't that look club-by?” exclaimed Cricket, enthusiastically, surveying the neatly written page, with its rules and ”buy-laws.”

”You ought to be the first editor, Edna, for you do write _beau_tifully.”

”You write my stories, and I'll print the paper, any time,” said Edna, brightening.

”No, I won't. I won't let you wiggle out of writing your stories, Edna, if I print _all_ the papers. Come, girls, I'm nearly dead with sitting still so long,” added Cricket, springing up. ”Let's go to ride.”

”No, I thank you. This is all I want to do, this hot day,” answered Edna, stretching herself out on the sand, with her head in Eunice's lap.

”Oh, lazybones! I'm going to find old Billy, and take him to ride.

Good-by!”