‘But you’ve forgotten to ask it,’ whispered Nixie from the door where she was holding up the curtains with both hands. ‘He’s got nothing to answer.’ Quickly correcting his mistake, Jonah then stood up on his seat and said, rather shyly, the following lines, evidently learned by heart with a good deal of trouble:— You’ve applied to our Secret Society, Which is full of unusual variety, And, in spite of your past, We admit you at last, But—we hope you’ll behave with propriety. ‘Now, stand up and answer, please,’ whispered Nixie. ‘Daddy made all this up, you know. It’s your turn to answer now.’ Paul rose with difficulty. At first it seemed as if the chair meant to rise with him, so tightly did it fit; but in the end he stood erect without it, and bowing to the President, he said in solemn tones—and the words came genuinely from his heart: ‘I appreciate the honour done to me. I am very grateful indeed.’ ‘That’s very good, I think,’ Nixie whispered under her breath to him. Then Toby advanced, climbing down laboriously from her perch on the broken bench, and stalked up to the spot just vacated by her brother. She, too, was suitably dressed for the occasion, but owing to her diminutive size, and the fact that she did not reach up to the patch of moonlight, it was not possible to distinguish more than the white cap pinned on to her hair. It looked like a housekeeper’s cap. She, too, carried a wand of office. Was it a hunting crop or poker, Paul wondered? Toby, then, with much more effort than Jonah, repeated the formula of admission. She got the lines a little mixed, however:— You’ve applied to our Secret Society, Which is full of unusual propriety, And, in spite of your past, We admit you at last, But we hope you’ll _behave with variety_. ‘I will endeavour to do so,’ said Paul, replying with a low bow. When he rose again to an upright position, Nixie was standing close in front of him. One arm still held up the curtains, but the other pointed directly into his face. ‘Your ’ficial position in the Society,’ she said in her thin, musical little voice, also repeating words learned by heart, ‘will be that of Recording Secretary, and your principal duties to keep a record of all the Aventures and to read them aloud at Regular Meetings. Any Meeting anywhere is a Regular Meeting. You must further promise on your living oath not to reveal the existence of the Society, or any detail of its proceedings, to any person not approved of by the Society as a whole.’ She paused for his reply. ‘I promise,’ he said. ‘He promises,’ repeated three voices together. There was a general clatter and movement in the summer-house. He was forced down again into the rickety chair and the three little officials were clambering upon his knees before he knew where he was. All talked breathlessly at once.