e cried gayly in
the midst of her eternal journey from "C" to "C." "He never wears his
Odd Fellows' pin unless he's been singing at an Odd Fellows' funeral, so
that lets me out to-night."

"Well," sighed Emma, "I don't know that I want him even if he has on his
Shriner's pin. I just believe I'll go to bed. The way I feel to-night
I'm so sick of children I believe I wouldn't marry the best man on
earth."

"Oh, well, of course, Emma," suggested the handsome Miss Morton, "if you
feel that way about it why, I--"

"Now Martha--" cried the elder sister, "can't you let me alone and get
out of here? I tell you, the superintendent and the principal and the
janitor and the dratted Calvin kid all broke loose to-day and I'm liable
to run out doors and begin to jump and down in the street and scream if
you start on me."

But after supper the three Misses Morton went upstairs, and did what
they could to wipe away the cares of a long and weary day. They put on
their second best dresses--all but Emma, who put on her best, saying she
had nothing else that wasn't full of chalk and worry. At seven
forty-five, they had the parlor illuminated. As for the pictures and
bric-a-brac--to-wit, a hammered brass flower pot near the grate, and
sitting on an onyx stand a picture of Richard Harding Davis, the
contribution of the eldest Miss Morton's callow youth, also a brass
smoking set on a mission table, the contribution of the youngest Miss
Morton from her first choir money--as for the pictures and bric-a-brac,
they were dusted until they glistened, and the trap was all set, waiting
for the prey.

They heard the gate click and the youngest Miss Morton said quickly:
"Well, if he's an Odd Fellow, I guess I'll take him. But," she sighed,
"I'll bet a cooky he's an Elk and Martha gets him."

The Captain went to the door and brought in the victim to as sweet and
demure a trio of surprised young women and as patient a cat, as ever sat
beside a rat hole. After he had greeted the girls--it was Ruth who took
his coat, and Martha his hat, but Emma who held his hand a second the
longest, after she spied the Shriner's pin--Mr. Brotherton picked up the
cat.

"Well, Epaminondas," he puffed as he stroked the animal and put it to
his cheek, "did they take his dear little kitties away from him--the
horrid things."

This was Mr. Brotherton's standard joke. Ruth said she never felt the
meeting was really opened until he had teased them about Epaminondas'