And so my term of office began.  Bloomdale never wore a brighter face than during that long vacation—­a vacation which extended from June till October.  We girls had studied very diligently all winter.  In spring there had been scarlet fever in the village, and our little housekeepers, for one cause or another, had seldom held meetings; and some of the mothers and older sisters declared that it was just what they had expected, our ardor had cooled, and nothing was coming of our club after all that had been said when we organized.

As president of the Bloomdale Clover Leaf Club I determined that the club should now make up for lost time, and having carte-blanche from mother, as I supposed, I thought I would set about work at once.  Cooking was our most important work, and there’s no fun in cooking unless eating is to follow; so the club should be social, and give luncheons, teas and picnics, at which we might have perfectly lovely times.  I saw no reason for delay, and with my usual impulsiveness, consulted nobody about my first step.

And thus I made mistake number one.  Cooking and housekeeping always look perfectly easy on paper.  When you come to taking hold of them in real earnest with your own hands you find them very different and much harder.

Soon after I heard the train whistle, and knew that father and mother were fairly gone, I harnessed old Fan to the phaeton, and set out to visit every one of the girls with an invitation to tea the very next evening.  I did put my head into grandmamma’s chamber to tell her what I thought of doing, but the dear old lady was asleep in her easy-chair, her knitting lying in her lap, and I knew she did not wish to be disturbed.  I closed the door softly and flew down stairs.

Just as I was ready to start, Aunt Hetty came to the kitchen door, calling me, persuasively:  “Miss Milly, honey, what yo’ done mean to hab for dinner?”

“Oh, anything you please, aunty,” I called back, gathering up the reins, chirping to Fan, and taking the road to the Curtis girls’ house.  Certainly I had no time to spend consulting with Aunt Hetty.

Mother knew me better than father did.  I found out later that this wasn’t at all a proper way to keep house, giving no orders, and leaving things to the discretion, of the cook.  But I hadn’t really begun yet, and I was wild to get the girls together.

Bloomdale is a sort of scattered up-hill and down-dale place, with one long and broad street running through the centre of the village, and houses standing far apart from each other, and well back from the pavement in the middle of the green lawns, swept into shadow by grand old trees.  The Bloomdale people are proud of the town, and keep the gardens beautiful with flowers and free from weeds.  Life in Bloomdale would be perfectly delightful, all the grown-up people say, if it were not for the everlasting trouble about servants, who are forever changing their places and going away, and complaining that the town is dull, and their church too distant, and life inconvenient; and so every one envies my mother, who has kept Hetty all these years, and never had any trouble at all.