"Ma," he blubbered, "Dora won't give me a piece of cake. Can't I have some, ma?" This exhibition of domestic turmoil made Mrs. Tweedie very angry, and it was with difficulty that she controlled herself. "Thomas, leave the room immediately," she commanded, sternly. "Am I goin' to have any cake?" the young man demanded when he saw that tears were of no avail. "Thomas, I insist upon your leaving the room at once," replied his mother, firmly. The ladies were watching breathlessly the contest between mother and son. "I won't go 'less I can have some cake," said the boy, defiantly. Mrs. Tweedie went to the door, and called for Dora. The silence that followed was so impressive that Thomas would have succumbed had it lasted a moment longer than it did. When Dora came Mrs. Tweedie, with much determination and latent anger, said: "Dora, assist Thomas from the room." Dora was delighted; here was an opportunity for revenge. Her hand went out quickly toward her prey, but Thomas dodged. "I won't go!" he screamed. "Thomas," said Mrs. Tweedie, sadly, "shall I call your father?" A broad grin spread over the boy's face, and Dora snickered. "I ain't 'fraid of him," he said, saucily. "Take him away instantly, Dora!" Mrs. Tweedie ordered, angrily. Dora was more successful in her next attempt to capture Thomas, though a vase was broken and two chairs were overturned while she was dragging him from the room. "Ladies," said Mrs. Tweedie, in a choking voice, as she removed her glasses and wiped them, "I cannot tell you how grieved I am to have our meeting interrupted--" A crash was heard at that moment, the sound coming from the direction of the kitchen. "I guess somebudy's dropped somethin'," suggested Mrs. Stout. Her surmise was correct. Dora had dropped Thomas, and dropped him hard. Mrs. Tweedie wiped her eyes, put on her glasses, and wondered how much damage had been done. "Thomas is a very impulsive child," she said, "I hope that you will overlook this rare breach in his customary commendable deportment. And now, had we not better make a start at least on the work for which we are gathered?" "I should say it was time," replied Mrs. Stout. "Up to now we've talked about everything from here to Halifax 'cept business." "The _other sex_," continued Mrs. Tweedie, after listening a moment to be sure that her domestic affairs were running smoothly, or, at least, noiselessly, "the _other sex_," she repeated, "have their lodges and clubs, why should not we band ourselves together in a similar manner, and become, in the community, a great power for good?" "Excuse _me_," interrupted Mrs. Stout, "but don't you think it's terrible hot here? I'm 'most melted." Miss Sawyer looked up in astonishment. "Why, Mrs. Stout, I am positively chilly," she said, coughing dismally.