Thus the conference opened, two to one against the life of the P. S. P. S., as the society was sometimes called.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” began our little heroine to the two, after they were seated and the moment had come for business. “These have been pretty dark days for me; I’ve been on the point of crying nearly all the time.”
“So have we,” came from the boys, “but what’s the use crying for spilt milk! The society’s as good as dead. Every one we’ve met says so, and now all that’s left for us is just to bury it respectably, and try something else. Guess you’ve come to that conclusion, too, haven’t you?”
“No; not I,” was the firm answer. “Our society began with one member and here we have three to build it up on again. I’m sure three are more than one.”
“Don’t know how you make three. You can’t count upon us. We see no chance now, and are ready to vote to end the P. S. P. S.”
“But we are two to your one, and you know majorities rule.”
“And you, who have stood by the society so long, are surely not going to desert it when it needs you most?”
“Nothing left to desert. You see, Jennie, the thing is gone up.”
And Jennie’s answer was a look of pain. There was silence, then a sigh and audible sob heard in the next room, where were Jennie’s father and Uncle John. Uncle John had come from a distant town for a visit of some weeks. He was a lover of the boys and girls, and when he knew the object of the meeting of the committee was to discuss the life or death of the Poplar Street Pansy Society, and that Jennie’s heart was bound up in that society, he immediately set himself, without telling any one, to devise ways and means to come to Jennie’s rescue.
So he had caught every word from the little committee folks in the next room, and when the crisis came and poor Jennie was about to be out-voted, he spoke out:
“That’s my Uncle John. I wonder if he’s heard all we’ve said,” and Jennie’s voice was in a whisper, and quickly her handkerchief stole to her eye to brush away the tears that had been starting. He spoke again:
“O, yes, Uncle John, do, do!” and with the words the door flew open, and Uncle John was introduced to the two boys.
After a few cheery remarks, the committee was asked not to take any action just then, but to call a meeting and talk the matter over once more, with as many present as could be induced to attend, Uncle John asking permission to be present and make any suggestion that might occur to him, remarking, with an assuring nod of his head, that the Poplar Street Pansy Society need not and should not die yet if the girls and boys would let him keep it alive.