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Words: 24524 in 15 pages
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lowed the changing of date each day, and as the type was already in stock the shopkeeper promised to deliver it that afternoon. Margery's mamma had painted the badges according to the design selected at the first meeting, only substituting a white carrier-pigeon as the device instead of an envelope, because, as Margery explained to the others, "it was more poetical than an envelope and prettier." The badge was of beautiful blue ribbon, the pigeon painted in white, surmounted by the initials of the club--H. T. C. And it may be stated here that unsatisfied curiosity as to the secret moved the other school-children to derision, and Jack, Margaret, Beatrice, and Amy were called the "Highty Tighty Cooing Pigeons," shortened for convenience to "The Doves."
The four were wrapped in admiration over their beautiful badges, when the postmark arrived. Each one tried it in turn, and at every impression the magic circle enclosing the words, "Blissylvania, June 8th, 1896"--for the date was set ready for the first use on Monday--seemed more entrancing. They all repaired to the orchard to see if it worked equally well on the big stone which they had selected for its table, and here the little cloud appeared that rolled up into a storm. It was such unutterable bliss to press the stamp on the ink-pad, and then make the impression on the white paper, that the office of postmaster suddenly seemed to each one the honor most to be coveted in all the world.
"I wonder how we shall decide who is to be postmaster," remarked Trix casually, as she reluctantly gave Amy the stamp to try.
Each face reddened slightly; evidently they had all been thinking of the same thing.
"I don't see how a girl can be postmaster," said Jack.
"Pshaw! We can be postmistress, and it's all the same," said Amy, speaking sharply for her.
"I should think it was more a man's place," continued Jack.
"It's a place for a girl that is strong and quick, and like a boy," said Trix hastily.
"I live right here, where I could look after it," said Margery, bringing the discussion from abstract views on suitability to the personal application they were all secretly making.
"That's the very reason why you shouldn't be postmistress!" cried peace-loving Amy, ruffling her feathers. "You shouldn't have everything."
"Oh, you're no good for it, Peggy!" said Jack, with easy scorn. "It needs a boy, and I'm the only boy; so of course I've got to be postmaster."
"Well, I like that," cried Trix, with eyes flashing like a whole woman's-rights convention in one small body. "Every one knows girls are heaps quicker and smarter than boys. I'd be a better postmaster than any of you, if I do say so."
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