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time. "Laura's not so bad if you like them well padded. She's got a couple of good points in her favor."
     
    "Good points!" Niles burst into laughter. "Hey, Pete, that's a hot one! Good points!"
     
    "Boys, stop that," their mother scolded. "That's not the land of talk I like to hear at the dinner table. Ruthie, I'm sure this is a lovely club. That's not the issue. The problem is that you are needed at home in the afternoons."
     
    "Darned right," Mr. Grange said firmly. "Your mother's only human. She can't hold down a full-time job, do all the housework, and get dinner on the table at a decent hour without some help. Besides that, we can't have Eric coming home to an empty house. He's only nine, and he needs some supervision."
     
    "It's only one afternoon a week," Ruth protested.
     
    "That's one afternoon too many if last Monday is any indication," her father said. "When we got home that evening, this place was a shambles—breakfast dishes still in the sink, dinner not started, and Eric and his friends had burst one of the sofa cushions playing catch with it in the living room. Your mother and I don't need to face that sort of mess at the end of a long, hard day."
     
    "Besides, it wouldn't be 'one afternoon a week,'" Mrs. Grange said. "I know what school clubs are like. There'll be after-school projects and parties, bake sales and poster-making and decorating the gym for dances and Lord knows what all else. Please don't badger us, Ruthie. It just can't be managed."
     
    "That's not fair!" Ruthie cried. "Why can't the boys do some of the work around this place? All they do is mess up, and I'm stuck with all the—"
     
    "Oh, Sis, cut it," Peter said briskly. "Niles and I aren't about to go into training to become housewives."
     
    "There'll be no more discussion, Ruthie. The subject is closed." Mr. Grange laid his knife and fork side by side on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "What's for dessert?"
     
    Laura Snow lay back in the bathtub, letting the scented water grow tepid around her as she relived the events of the day. It had been, without doubt, one of the happiest days of Laura's life. Actually, all of her days had been happy since the arrival of the magical invitation two weeks before, but this particular day had been filled with one sparkling moment after another.
     
    First there had been the invitation to Holly Underwood's seventeenth birthday party a week from Saturday. It was the first party Laura had been asked to since she started high school. Then, between first and second period, Ann Whitten had beckoned to her in the hall and drawn her aside for a whispered disclosure.
     
    "Dave and I are engaged!" she had told her ecstatically. "We haven't told anybody yet except our parents, but I wanted my sisters in Daughters of Eve to know about it. Oh, Laura, I'm so happy!" She had given Laura a quick hug and run off down the hall calling, "Miss Stark? Can you wait a minute? There's something I want to tell you!" and Laura had carried the glow of the wonderful secret around with her for the rest of the day, incredulous that she had been among the ones chosen to share it.
     
    At noon she had carried her sack lunch to the cafeteria and found herself at a table with Fran Schneider and Paula Brummell. They had laughed and chattered and included Laura in their conversation as though she were truly one of them, a friend and a sister, and on her way back to class Paula had asked her if she would like to be on the social services committee to investigate the needs at the Modesta nursing home.
     
    "Kelly and I are going out there next Tuesday," Paula had said. "Then we'll make up a list of suggestions for things the club can do to help out, and we'll present it at the next meeting. Do you think you could go with us?"
     
    "Why, yes, I'd like to a lot," Laura had said, and Paula had exclaimed, "Oh, great," with real enthusiasm in her voice, and had said, "I'll call you tonight about the details."
     
    But the