As spring came on, a new set of amusements became thefashion, and the lengthening days gave long afternoons forwork and play of all sorts. The garden had to be put in order,and each sister had a quarter of the little plot to do what sheliked with. Hannah used to say, "I'd know which each of themgardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny," and so she might,for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg'shad roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it.Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always tryingexperiments. This year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers,the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feedAunt Cockle-top and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashionedfragrant flowers in her garden, sweet peas and mignonette,larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed forthe birds and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers,rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, withhoneysuckle and morning-glories hanging their colored horns andbells in graceful wreaths all over it, tall white lilies, delicateferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consentto blossom there.

Gardening, walks, rows on the river, and flower hunts employedthe fine days, and for rainy ones, they had house diversions,some old, some new, all more or less original. One of thesewas the 'P.C.', for as secret societies were the fashion,it was thought proper to have one, and as all of the girlsadmired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. Witha few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and metevery Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions theceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a rowbefore a table on which was a lamp, also four white badges, witha big 'P.C.' in different colors on each, and the weeklynewspaper called, The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributedsomething, while Jo, who reveled in pens and ink, was the editor.At seven o'clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom,tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats withgreat solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo,being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because shewas round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always tryingto do what she couldn't, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, thepresident, read the paper, which was filled with original tales,poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in whichthey good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults andshort comings. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pairof spectacles without any glass, rapped upon the table, hemmed,and having stared hard at Mr. Snodgrass, who was tilting backin his chair, till he arranged himself properly, began to read:

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A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:

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As the President finished reading the paper (which I begleave to assure my readers is a bona fide copy of one writtenby bona fide girls once upon a time), a round of applausefollowed, and then Mr. Snodgrass rose to make a proposition.

"Mr. President and gentlemen," he began, assuming aparliamentary attitude and tone, "I wish to propose the admissionof a new member - one who highly deserves the honor, would bedeeply grateful for it, and would add immensely to the spiritof the club, the literary value of the paper, and be no endjolly and nice. I propose Mr. Theodore Laurence as an honorarymember of the P. C. Come now, do have him."

Jo's sudden change of tone made the girls laugh, but alllooked rather anxious, and no one said a word as Snodgrasstook his seat.

"We'll put it to a vote," said the President. "All infavor of this motion please to manifest it by saying, 'Aye'."

A loud response from Snodgrass, followed, to everybody's surprise, by a timid one from Beth.

"Contrary-minded say, 'No'."

Meg and Amy were contrary-minded, and Mr. Winkle rose tosay with great elegance, "We don't wish any boys, they onlyjoke and bounce about. This is a ladies' club, and we wish tobe private and proper."

"I'm afraid he'll laugh at our paper, and make fun of usafterward," observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on herforehead, as she always did when doubtful.

Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. "Sir, I give youmy word as a gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. Helikes to write, and he'll give a tone to our contributions andkeep us from being sentimental, don't you see? We can do so littlefor him, and he does so much for us, I think the least we can dois to offer him a place here, and make him welcome if he comes."

This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman tohis feet, looking as if he had quite made up his mind.

"Yes; we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he maycome, and his grandpa, too, if he likes."

This spirited burst from Beth electrified the club, and Joleft her seat to shake hands approvingly. "Now then, vote again.Everybody remember it's our Laurie, and say, 'Aye!'"cried Snodgrass excitedly.

"Aye! Aye! Aye!" replied three voices at once.

"Good! Bless you! Now, as there's nothing like 'taking timeby the fetlock', as Winkle characteristically observes, allow meto present the new member." And, to the dismay of the rest of theclub, Jo threw open the door of the closet, and displayed Lauriesitting on a rag bag, flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter.

"You rogue! You traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the threegirls, as Snodgrass led her friend triumphantly forth, and producingboth a chair and a badge, installed him in a jiffy.

"The coolness of you two rascals is amazing," began Mr. Pickwick,trying to get up an awful frown and only succeeding in producingan amiable smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion,and rising, with a grateful salutation to the Chair, saidin the most engaging manner, "Mr. President and ladies - I beg pardon,gentlemen - allow me to introduce myself as Sam Weller, the veryhumble servant of the club."

"Good! Good!" cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the oldwarming pan on which she leaned.

"My faithful friend and noble patron," continued Laurie witha wave of the hand, "who has so flatteringly presented me, is notto be blamed for the base stratagem of tonight. I planned it, andshe only gave in after lots of teasing."

"Come now, don't lay it all on yourself. You know I proposedthe cupboard," broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the jokeamazingly.

"Never mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir,"said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. "Buton my honor, I never will do so again, and henceforth devote myselfto the interest of this immortal club."

"Hear! Hear!" cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming panlike a cymbal.

"Go on, go on!" added Winkle and Tupman, while the Presidentbowed benignly.

"I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitudefor the honor done me, and as a means of promoting friendly relationsbetween adjoining nations, I have set up a post office in the hedgein the lower corner of the garden, a fine, spacious building withpadlocks on the doors and every convenience for the mails, also thefemales, if I may be allowed the expression. It's the old martinhouse, but I've stopped up the door and made the roof open, so itwill hold all sorts of things, and save our valuable time. Letters,manuscripts, books, and bundles can be passed in there, and as eachnation has a key, it will be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me topresent the club key, and with many thanks for your favor, take myseat."

Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on thetable and subsided, the warming pan clashed and waved wildly, andit was some time before order could be restored. A long discussionfollowed, and everyone came out surprising, for everyone did herbest. So it was an unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourntill a late hour, when it broke up with three shrill cheers for thenew member.

No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, fora more devoted, well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have.He certainly did add 'spirit' to the meetings, and 'a tone' to thepaper, for his orations convulsed his hearers and his contributionswere excellent, being patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic,but never sentimental. Jo regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton,or Shakespeare, and remodeled her own works with good effect, shethought.

The P. O. was a capital little institution, and flourishedwonderfully, for nearly as many queer things passed through it asthrough the real post office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry andpickles, garden seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread,rubbers, invitations, scoldings, and puppies. The old gentlemanliked the fun, and amused himself by sending odd bundles,mysterious messages, and funny telegrams, and his gardener, who wassmitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love letter to Jo'scare. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaminghow many love letters that little post office would hold in theyears to come.