“And after supper, I will read you the club song,” Tracy announced.
“Are we to have a club song?” Edna asked.
“Read it now, son—while we eat,” Tom suggested.
Tracy rose promptly—“Mind you save me a few scraps then. First, it isn’t original—”
“All the better,” Jack commented.
“Hush up, and listen—
“’A cheerful world?—It
And if you understand your biz
You’ll taboo the worry worm,
And cultivate the happy germ.
“’It’s a habit to be
Just as much as to be scrappy.
So put the frown away awhile,
And try a little sunny smile.’”
There was a generous round of applause. Tracy tossed the scrap of paper across the table to Bell. “Put it to music, before the next round-up, if you please.”
Bell nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“We’ve got a club song and a club badge, and we ought to have a club motto,” Josie said.
“It’s right to your hand, in your song,” her brother answered. “’It’s a habit to be happy.’”
“Good!” Pauline seconded him, and the motto was at once adopted.
Bell Ward set the new song to music, a light, catchy tune, easy to pick up. It took immediately, the boys whistled it, as they came and went, and the girls hummed it. Patience, with cheerful impartiality, did both, in season and out of season.
It certainly looked as though it were getting to be a habit to be happy among a good many persons in Winton that summer. The spirit of the new club seemed in the very atmosphere.
A rivalry, keen but generous, sprang up between the club members in the matter of discovering new ways of “Seeing Winton,” or, failing that, of giving a new touch to the old familiar ones.
There were many informal and unexpected outings, besides the club’s regular ones, sometimes amongst all the members, often among two or three of them.
Frequently, Shirley drove over in the surrey, and she and Pauline and Hilary, with sometimes one of the other girls, would go for long rambling drives along the quiet country roads, or out beside the lake. Shirley generally brought her sketch-book and there were pleasant stoppings here and there.
And there were few days on which Bedelia and the trap were not out, Bedelia enjoying the brisk trots about the country quite as much as her companions.
Hilary soon earned the title of “the kodak fiend,” Josie declaring she took pictures in her sleep, and that “Have me; have my camera,” was Hilary’s present motto. Certainly, the camera was in evidence at all the outings, and so far, Hilary had fewer failures to her account than most beginners. Her “picture diary” she called the big scrap-book in which was mounted her record of the summer’s doings.