"Can you beat it!" Sadie cried, in outraged pride. Cicily hastened to soothe her guests by an explanation that was more ingenious than ingenuous. "You don't understand," she remonstrated. "This is the club I spoke to you about. I want you to become members of the society. We need you to help in the work." "You're on!" Sadie declared, with gusto. Again, she realized how she had departed from her idols. "I would say," she went on mincingly, "it will afford me great pleasure." "You mean, then," Mrs. McMahon inquired, "that you've picked us out to help uplift the other women?" As Cicily nodded assent, she continued, condescendingly: "Well, if I do have to say it myself, there's many of them as needs it." Presently, Mrs. Carrington and Mrs. Morton were shown into the drawing-room, and welcomed by Cicily, who insisted on introducing them to "three other earnest workers." The newcomers submitted to the introductions with obvious unwillingness, and their acknowledgments were of the frigidest. "They," Cicily explained, with a wave of her hand toward the three, "have had large practical experience in the work of the club." "Sure, and I have that," Mrs. McMahon agreed, expansively; "and so have Frieda and Sadie--in a smaller way, of course." Mrs. Carrington unbent so far as to ejaculate, "Indeed!" the while she surveyed the speaker through a lorgnette; and Mrs. Morton added an unenthusiastic, "Really!" Cicily, who was all anxiety to establish harmonious relations between the two parties of her guests, since so much might depend on the result of her efforts, spoke placatingly to the company: "I'm sure you ladies will find one another entertaining." "Oh, vastly entertaining, no doubt!" Mrs. Morton replied; but her tone was far from satisfactory to the worried hostess. Nor was the manner of Mrs. McMahon calculated to relieve the tension. "If I live, I'll have the time of my life!" she declared, grimly. She turned to Mrs. Morton: "Is your husband's family any relation to the Mortons of County Clare, if I may make so bold as to ask?" "Yes," Mrs. Morton answered, with much complacency. "Mr. Morton at present keeps up his old family estate in Ireland." "Sure, and that wouldn't bust him," Mrs. McMahon commented caustically. "I remember the estate--a bit of a cabin in a bog." The Amazon's huge frame shook as she chuckled. "Just ask your husband; he'll remember me well. Sure, the last time I saw him was when his aunt, Nora, married Tom McMahon, my husband's uncle. Faith, it's cousins we are by marriage."