Off they started, and a more decorous-looking crowd than the Jinks Club one would not wish to see! Mr. Simmons' Ice-Cream Garden was a most attractive place. It was a small grove, by the side of a small stream, and the tables were in a sort of pavilion that overlooked the water. The children were welcomed by the good-natured old proprietor, who had served his ice-cream to their parents when they were children. "And what kind will you have?" asked Mr. Simmons, after they were seated around a table. This required thought, but each finally chose a favorite mixture, and soon they were enjoying the pink or white pyramids that were brought them. "I do think the Jinks Club is lovely," said Kitty, as she gazed out over the water and contentedly ate her ice-cream. "So do I," said Dorothy, who always agreed with her adored chum, but was, moreover, happy on her own account. "I shall write all this up in the minutes!" declared Dick. "And when shall we have our next meeting?" "Next Saturday," said Kitty. "I'm the committee, and I decide things." "So do I," said Dorothy, and they all agreed to meet the next Saturday morning. CHAPTER VIII SPELLING TROUBLES "What _is_ the matter, Midge?" said her father, "You sigh as if you'd lost your last friend." The family were in the pleasant living-room one evening, just after dinner. All, that is, except Rosy Posy, who had gone to bed long ago. Kingdon was reading, and Kitty was idly playing with the kitten, while Marjorie, her head bent over a book on the table, was abstractedly moving her lips as if talking to herself. "Oh, Father! it's this horrid old spelling lesson. I just _can't_ learn it, and that all there is about it!" "Can't learn to spell? Bring me your book, and let me have a look at it." Very willingly Marjorie flew to her father's side, and, big girl though she was, perched herself on his knee while she showed him the page. "Just look! There's 'deleble' spelled with an e, and 'indelible' with an i! Why can't they spell them alike?" "I think myself they might as well have done so," said Mr. Maynard, "but, since they didn't, we'll have to learn them as they are. Where is your lesson?" "All that page. And they're fearfully hard words. And words I'll never use anyway. Why would I want to use 'harassed' and 'daguerreotype' and 'macaroni' and such words as those?" Mr. Maynard smiled at the troubled little face. "You may not want to use them, dearie, but it is part of your education to learn to spell them. Come, now, I'll help you, and we'll soon put them through. Let's pick out the very hardest one first." "All right; 'daguerreotype' is the hardest." "Oh, pshaw, no! That's one of the very easiest. Just remember that it was a Frenchman named Daguerre who invented the process; then you only have to add 'o' and 'type,' and there you are!" "Why, that _is_ easy! I'll never forget that. 'Macaroni' is a hard one, though." "Why?"