.
Lorna Carson--Irene Beverley.

Whether the members of the secret sorority felt satisfied or otherwise
with the result of the shuffle, etiquette forbade them to show anything
but polite enthusiasm. Each took her buddy solemnly by the hand and
vowed allegiance. Peachy then produced what she called "the loving cup,"
a three-handled vase of brown pottery brought by Jess from Edinburgh and
with the motto "Mak' yersel' at hame," on it in cream-colored letters.
It was usually a receptacle for flowers, but it had been hastily washed
for the occasion and filled with lemonade, a rather bitter brew
concocted by Peachy and Delia from a half-ripe lemon plucked in the
garden and a few lumps of sugar saved from tea. This was passed round,
and the Camellia Buds gulped it heroically as a pledge of sisterhood.

"The password is _Thistle-down_," decreed Agnes, as the members, trying
not to pull sour faces, consoled themselves with candy and broke up the
meeting. "Any one who can think of a stunt for next time please bring
along propositions. We're always open to new ideas and ready for a
startler."

As a direct result of her admission to this select sorority Irene found
herself flung by Fate into the arms of Lorna Carson. Had any individual
choice been allowed she would have selected Peachy, Jess, Delia, or even
Sheila in preference, but the lot once cast she must abide by it and be
content. She had a very shrewd suspicion that when the buddies got tired
of each other they elected a fresh member and so necessitated a general
reshuffle of partners, and that her admission to the society had been
welcomed as the pretext for such a change. Here she was, however,
pledged to intimate friendship with Lorna, a girl who half fascinated
and half repelled her, and who, though she might possibly turn out
trumps in the future, was for the present at least most difficult to
understand.

CHAPTER V

Fairy Godmothers, Limited

Irene Beverley, when she first left the shores of her native land, was a
particularly light-hearted, jolly little Britisher, not at all bookish,
and not accustomed to worry her head over any of the deep affairs of
life, but ready to have a royal time with anybody of similar tastes and
inclinations. In her first letter home she summed up the results of a
week's experience.

"THE VILLA CAMELLIA.

"MUMMIE DARLING,

"This is to tell you I am still ali