“Well, we have to be dreadfully careful not to frighten people off. I announced it as ‘The Education of Little Children.’ That sounded well, and there was a good attendance. Of course there wouldn’t have been a handful if we had said ‘Kindergartens.’ You know they are a little tired of that.” I was staring mutely into my cup. “Oh, a man’s life is so simple!” she went on. “A man’s club jogs along with about the same membership year after year. With us it is different. Women form a club in a great thrill. They swear, like the soldiers, to fight together until they are all dead, wounded, or promoted. But things change. There are losses, not merely by death and marriage, but by the readjustment of enthusiasms. Take Mrs. Montreville. She was a good member of the Phidias until she joined the Breathing Class. She hasn’t time for anything now but breathing. It is much the same with Mrs. Farlowe. She took up with the Relaxing Club. You know how those relaxers go in for things. Poor woman! I never saw her look so drawn and tired as she has since she went into that. Mrs. Pellmore was sure that nothing would lure her from the Dames. But some one kidnapped her into the Ibsen Club, where they have the most charming times over heredity and microbes, and of course she has no room for us now.” “I can see,” I said, “that this might make things very difficult.” “Difficult! Why, the Progressive Woman is a perfect blur. There was a time when all clubs looked alike to women. Nowadays we have become discriminating and there is no peace. The competition is frightful. It is no longer a matter of wafers. You can’t lure them with things to eat. They want sensations.” “It really is too bad,” I said. “You will have to organize a trust and fight these yellow clubs.” “As for that, it is pretty hard to find a club without a streak of yellow in it. We’ve got to work in a vein of novelty somehow. They call it making the club attractive. The Phidias went in for Shakespeare at first. Then we found that in order to get new members we had to take up Browning too. That was well enough for a while. When the younger members got restless, we had Miss de Villeforte Volé lecture to us on ‘Degeneracy.’ This delighted everybody except Mrs. Bentwell, who lectures herself on ‘The Ascent of Man.’ After that we had some talks by Professor Prinks on the ‘Marriage Customs of Central Africa.’ There were some criticisms of this. We are bound to have objectors, and sub-objectors—women like Mrs. Prittle—do you know Mrs. Prittle? No? Well, Mrs. Prittle is one of those gorgeously upholstered women who rise with a tremendous rustling and ‘agree with what the last speaker has said.’ Just now there is a row on because some of them want to take up the North Pole.” “What on earth do they want to do with that?” I demanded. “I haven’t the least idea. Probably they haven’t. But they would tell you that there isn’t anything else left.” “Anything else left?”