To both girls, the very air was full of constraint. Barbara accompanied her visitor to the gate, where they parted with scarcely a word. Then she turned back swiftly to the porch, and sat down in the chair just vacated by Susan. She pressed her hand to her temples. “I must think this out,” she said aloud. “Could I have been wrong?” Some time later, the Kid cantered up to the porch. He went straight to a bowed figure in the big chair, and pulled down the hands from the hidden face. “I’m hungry, Barb’ra,” he said. “Isn’t supper ready?” Barbara put her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. “_You_ like me, little brother, don’t you?” she said. “Of course,” answered the Kid, nonchalantly; “and I’m hungry.” Barbara took him by the hand, and led him gently into the house. “I think I can find something for hungry little boys,” she said. CHAPTER VIII APPLIED PHILANTHROPY “DADDY, please fasten me up,” said Barbara. The doctor thrust two large hands inside of her gown, in the man’s way, using them as fulcrums over which to pull the fragile fabric with all the force of two strong thumbs. “Pretty snug, isn’t it?” he said. “Where are you going in your Sunday best?—mill or meeting?” Barbara shook out the folds of her violet gown. “Meeting,” she responded. “The Woman’s Club has asked me to give them a paper to-day.” “The Woman’s Club! What has become of the A. L. L. A.?” “The Auburn Ladies’ Literary Association is still in existence, unfortunately. But it isn’t going to be long.” “Why not?” asked her father. “It’s going to have its name changed, if I have any influence with its members,” said Barbara. “Isn’t it absurd for it to go on calling itself ‘_Ladies’_ Literary Association,’ just because it has been used to the title for thirty years, when every other women’s organization in the country is ‘Woman’s Club’? And ‘_Literary_’! Did you ever hear of anything so pretentious! Nobody is literary nowadays, but Tolstoi and Maeterlinck. Besides, the name debars the members from philanthropic and civic work, which are the moving factors in all club life. I shall certainly make an effort to have the other members change the name, this very day.” “You’d better keep your hands off,” laughed the doctor. “The A. L. L. A. is Auburn’s Holy of Holies. What are you going to ‘stand and deliver’ before it?” “One of my college papers. I haven’t had time to write anything new since the Duchess left. It’s on the ‘Psychology of the Child in Relation to Club Work.’ I had to piece on half the title to make it appropriate.” The suspicion of a twinkle lurked about the doctor’s eyes. “Well, good luck to you,” he said; “the Literary Association may not approve of your paper, but it can’t find fault with your dress.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Jack. “That garb is like all the rest of Barbara,—it’s too irritatingly new to pass unscathed in Auburn. Is that churn effect the Umpire Style, Barb?”