"Just a line to tell you what a lovely evening we have had. The baronet seemed greatly taken with Miss Jack and she with him, and they behaved in a conventional manner. Guy and I were able to have a real long chat and he told me all his troubles. It appears that he has just been thrown over by his promised bride under circumstances of a most peculiar character. I gave him the sympathy he needed, but at the same time thought to myself, aha! here is another member for the Old Maids' Club. You rely on me, I will build you up a phalanx of Old Maids that shall just swamp the memory of Hippolyte and her Amazons. I got out of Guy the name and address of the girl who jilted him. I shall call upon Miss Sybil Hotspur the first thing in the morning, and if I do not land her my name is not "Yours cheerily, "WEE WINNIE." "This may be awkward," said the Honorary Trier, returning the letter to the President. "Miss Nimrod seems to take her own election for granted." "And to think that we are anxious for members," added Lillie. "Well, we ought to have somebody to replace Miss Jack," said Silverdale, with a suspicion of a smile. "But do you propose to accept Wee Winnie?" "I don't know--she is certainly a remarkable girl. Such originality and individuality! Suppose we let things slide a little." "Very well; we will not commit ourselves yet by saying anything to Miss Nim----" "Miss Nimrod," announced Turple the magnificent. "Aha! Here we are again!" cried Wee Winnie. "How are you, everybody? How is the old gentleman? Isn't he here?" "He is very well, thank you, but he is not one of us," said Lillie. "Oh! Well, anyhow, I've got another of us." "Miss Sybil Hotspur?" "The same. I found her raging like a volcano." "What--smoking?" queried Silverdale. "No, no, she is one of the old sort. She merely fumes," said Wee Winnie, laughing as if she had made a joke. "She was raving against the infidelity of men. Poor Guy! How his ears must have tingled. He has sent her a long explanation, but she laughs it to scorn. I persuaded her to let you see it--it is so quaint." "Have you it with you?" asked Lillie eagerly. Her appetite for tales of real life was growing by what it fed upon. "Yes--here is his letter, several quires long. But before you can understand it, you must know how the breach came about." "Lord Silverdale, pass Miss Nimrod the chocolate creams. Or would you like some lemonade?" "Lemonade by all means," replied Wee Winnie, taking up her favorite attitude astride the sofa. "With just a wee drappie of whiskey in it, if you please. I daresay I shall be as dry as a lime-kiln before I've finished the story and read you this letter." Turple the magnificent duly attended to Miss Nimrod's wants. Whatever he felt, he made no sign. He was simply Turple the magnificent.