At first Tom objected, but the dogs had already taken advantage of the open door to depart, the candle burned dimly, and the air was damp. He yielded, and the underground shanty was left to its earthy seclusion. CHAPTER III. THE EDITOR'S SANCTUM. "Justice has never been done to the month of months," said Hugh, coming in to the breakfast-table one morning, bringing a spray of roses with the dew shining on their fragrant petals. "I propose we celebrate the day, the fifteenth of June; the most perfect day of the most perfect month of this most perfect year of our lives. Who knows where we shall be before another June comes round? 'We have lived and loved together through many a changing year; we have shared each other's pleasures and wept each other's tears.' But _tempus fugit_, oh, how fast! and before we know it we shall all be old! Friends, fill your coffee-cups to the brim, and let us resolve to celebrate." "A picnic!" said Gem. "A torch-light procession and fireworks!" said Tom. "A croquet-party!" said Sibyl. "A dance!" said Bessie. "An editor's sanctum," said Hugh. The novelty of this suggestion made a favorable impression. "Explain yourself, Hugh," said Aunt Faith; "I am afraid your project is too large for the field." "Oh, no, Aunt Faith, it is not so large as you fancy. There is a store of hidden genius in this family, and I propose, to bring it out and let it scintillate in the light of day! We will invite a few friends to spend the evening, give them notice that they must bring to the 'Sanctum' an original contribution, in prose or verse as they please, and at nine o'clock we, will all assemble in the parlor to hear them read aloud. I will act as editor, receive manuscripts, throw them into a basket, and when the appointed time comes, take them out and read them aloud, as they happen to come." "Splendid!" said Tom; "I'll go right away and begin mine." "Oh, I can never think of anything to say!" said Gem in a despairing voice. "I have never noticed any difficulty of that kind in you, Pussy," said Hugh, laughing. "Oh, I mean to _write_, of course," said Gem; "I don't know what I shall do unless you'll take my last composition?" "Anything you like as long as it's original," said Hugh. So Gem went upstairs with a lightened heart and the others discussed the list of invitations. "We will have old Mr. Gay," began Bessie; "he is always an addition. I wish he would stay here permanently instead of going back to Boston." "A Boston man will never forsake the 'Rub,'" said Hugh; "that is too much to expect. We will have Mr. Leslie, of course." "Rose Saxon and Graham Marr," said Sibyl. "Now, Sibyl, how can you?" said Hugh. "Graham is not a congenial spirit." "He is congenial to me," replied Sibyl calmly. "Of course we will have the Marrs," said Aunt Faith; "and Gideon Fish also." "Oh, Aunt Faith! Not Gideon?" said Bessie. "Poor Gid! If he could hear you say so," said Hugh, laughing.