On the edge of a chair opposite the cheery little girl on the floor sat a long-limbed, dark-eyed girl, holding her gypsy face in her hands, her elbows on her knees, listlessly watching Amy Tracy and the cat. They were spending the afternoon with Margaret Gresham, Jack's cousin, who was kept in the house by a cold, and whose tiny figure was curled up in a big leather chair near the fire, and her pale face and big, eager gray eyes looked out from its brown depths in sharp contrast. "I'm going to ask St. Anthony to find the sun," announced the gypsy-like girl suddenly. She spoke through her closed teeth, not taking the trouble to remove her hands from her face. "Not a bad idea, Trix," said Jack, laughing. But their hostess looked shocked. "Why, Beatrice Lane, you shouldn't say that, it isn't right," she protested. "Well, I'm sure it seems lost enough," retorted Trix. "Nothing's lost when you know where it is," said Jack. "I don't know where the sun is, except that it's somewhere in the sky," said Trix. "It's just about there," said Jack, sitting up to point out of the window, and becoming more cheerful in the chance to show off to the girls. "It's sliding right down to the zenith." "Horizon, Jack," interrupted Margery, laughing. "Well, horizon, then; it doesn't matter," Jack said, annoyed. "It's getting ready to slip down to China, and it's more than ninety-five millions of miles away." "Good boy!" said Trix mockingly. "How much he knows! I don't care about the sun anyway, it's too late for it to shine to-day; but if I don't find something to do I'll eat that cat up, Amy." Amy cried out in pretended fear, and gathered Tommy Traddles to her heart, but he remonstrated vigorously, and struggling free sat down in precisely the same spot, wrapping his tail around him, and looking as if he had never been disturbed. "I was thinking," began Margery slowly, "of something nice." "Charlotte Russe?" asked Jack, knowing Margery's weakness. "Cats?" suggested Amy, alluding to another. "Sister Aloysia?" inquired Beatrice, for Margery was devoted to her teacher, and, in school phrase, "had a favorite nun." "It's something nice for us to do," replied Margery, with much dignity, "and it would not be for a day, but for always, and if you make fun of me I'll not tell you." "All right, Margery, we won't, and do tell quick," said Trix. "I wasn't really making fun of you, and I'm dying to hear," said Amy. "Tell ahead, Margery; hurry up," added Jack. Thus urged, Margery sat up, putting down her feet, upon which she had been sitting, and smoothing her skirt to do honor to what she had to reveal. "I was thinking," she began, "that we might form a club, we four." "Like the A. G. L.?" asked Amy.