"A nice tale, but too short," commented the President. "I'm afraid Linda hasn't written a long one either. THE STORY OF A DOG By LINDA ACTON MARSHALL I have a little dog called Scamp, that follows me wherever I go. He can sit up and beg, and catch biscuits on his nose, and do all kinds of tricks. One day I was in bed with a bad cold, and Scamp came upstairs to my room. I told him I was ill, and he gave a sharp bark, and ran out. I could hear him trot up to the attic, and soon he returned with a biscuit in his mouth, and laid it on my pillow, wagging his tail, and looking very sorry for me, and very pleased at himself. He must have kept a store of biscuits in the attic. I think he is just the cleverest little dog in the world." "My tale's true, too," said Linda. "No, I didn't make it up, Nina; he really did. There are only two stories left now, Connie's and Marian's. I wonder which comes next." "Connie's," said Marian. "And it's in poetry, too. It's called: THE S.S.L.U. By CONSTANCE MARY CAMDEN Said the girls of the third class 'All we A Secret Society will be. Though the second may hover Our words to discover, It's nothing they'll hear or they'll see. They may listen at doors in the hall, Or round by the keyhole may crawl, They may search through the schools, But they won't find our rules, And they'll never know nothing at all'." The girls clapped, both at the sentiments expressed, and at the poetical setting. "I know they'd listen if they could," said Connie. "They're mean enough for anything. What's that noise?" "Why, nothing." "I thought I heard a kind of snorting." "I expect it was only my cold," said Nina. "Do go on, Marian; we want your story." "But I did hear something," persisted Connie. "I believe it was outside the door, too, and I'm going to look." She rose hastily, and, creeping softly to the door, opened it suddenly, disclosing the laughing faces of half a dozen of the second class, who had been taking it in turns to listen at the keyhole, and who jumped up in a hurry and fled from the outburst of wrath which greeted them. "Oh! Oh!" shouted Sybil Lake. "Won't they hear or see anything? Don't make too sure!" "I have a little dog that swallows me wherever I go!" called Eileen Butler. "I think he's just the cleverest little dog in the world!" "The slugs are crawling fast!" cried Lucy Martin. The injured third had risen in a body and pursued the intruders along the passage even to the door of their own sitting-room; but, seeing Miss Barrett coming downstairs, they did not dare to carry the fight into the enemy's camp, and were obliged to return to the playroom, and hold an indignation meeting over the glasses of milk and biscuits which arrived at that moment for supper.