and Ethel Blue marched around the table and placed one dish before Roger at one end and another before Helen at the other. "It's sowens."
"Sowens? What in the world are sowens?" everybody questioned.
"Grandfather told us that Burns says that sowens eaten with butter always make the Hallowe'en supper, so we looked up in the Century Dictionary how to make them and this is the result."
"Do you think they're safe?" inquired Della.
"There's a doctor here to take care of us if anything happens," laughed James. "I'm game. Give me a chance at them."
Roger and Helen began a distribution of the cakes.
"Sowens is--or are--good," decided Dr. Watkins, tasting his cake slowly, and pronouncing judgment on it after due deliberation.
"We tried them yesterday to make sure they were eatable by Americans, and we thought they were pretty good, smoking hot, with butter on them, just as Burns directed."
"Right. They are," agreed all the boys promptly, and the girls agreed with them, though they were not quite so enthusiastic in their expression of appreciation as the boys.
Baked apples, nuts and raisins, countless cookies of various lands and hot gingerbread made an appetizing meal. As it was coming to an end Helen rapped on the table.
"Please let me pretend this is a club meeting for a minute or two instead of a party. I want to tell the people here who aren't members of the U. S. C. what it is we are trying to do."
"We know," responded George. "You're working for the Christmas Ship. Didn't I dance in your minuet?"
"We are working for the Christmas Ship, but that is only one thing that the Club does."
"What do the initials mean?" asked Gregory.
"United Service Club. You see Father is in the Navy and Uncle Richard is in the Army so we have the United Service in the family. But that is just a family pun. The real purpose of the Club is to do some service for somebody whenever we can."
"Something on the Boy Scout idea of doing a kindness every day," nodded Dr. Watkins.
"Just now it's the Christmas Ship and after that sails we'll hunt up something else. Why I told you about it now is because we planned to go out in a few minutes and go up and down some of the streets, and--"
"Lift gates?" asked Gregory.
"No, not lift gates. That's the point. We couldn't very well be a service club and do mean things to people just for the fun of it."
"Oh, lifting gates isn't mean."
"Isn't it! I don't believe you'd find it enormously entertaining to hunt up your gate the next day and re-hang it, would you?"
Gregory admitted that perhaps it would not.
"So we're going out to play good fairies instead of bad ones, and if any of you knows anybody we can do a good turn to, please speak up."
"That's the best scheme I've heard in some time," said Edward Watkins admiringly. "Let's start. I'm all impatience to be a good fairy."
So they said "good-night" to Dicky, bundled into their coats and each one of the boys took a jack-o'-lantern to light the way. Roger also carried a kit that bulged with queer shapes, and the girls each had a parcel whose contents was not explained by the president.
"Lead the way, Roger," she commanded as they left the house.
"Church Street first," he answered.
"Church Street? I wonder if he's going to do Mother and me a good turn," giggled Dorothy.
It proved that he was not, for he passed the Smith cottage and went on until he came to the house in which lived the Misses Clark. Roger was taking care of their furnace, together with his mother's and his Aunt Louise's, in order to earn money for the expenses of the Club, and he had discovered that these old ladies were not very happy in spite of living in a comfortable house and apparently having everything they needed.
"These Misses Clark are lonely," he whispered as they gathered before the door. "They think nobody cares for them--and nobody does much, to tell the honest truth. So here's where we sing two songs for them," and without waiting for any possible objections he broke into "The Christmas Ship" which they all knew, and followed it with "Sister Susie's Sewing Shirts for Soldiers."
"Not very appropriate, but they'll do," whispered Roger to Dr. Watkins, whose clear tenor supported him. Dorothy's sweet voice soared high, Tom's croak made a heavy background, and the more or less tuneful voices of the others added a hearty body of sound. There was no response from the house except that a corner of an upstairs curtain was drawn aside for an instant.
"They probably think they won't find anything left on their front porch when they come down in the morning. They've had Hallowe'en visits before, poor ladies," said Gregory
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