“I shall not go, for one,” said Zoe, resolutely. “La!” said Fanny, looking carefully away from her to Harrington; “and she was the one that insisted.” Zoe ignored the speaker and set her face stiffly toward Harrington. “She only _said_ that to _him.”_ _Fanny._ “But, unfortunately, ears are not confined to the noble.” _Zoe._ “Nor tongues to the discreet.” Both these remarks were addressed pointedly to Harrington. “Halloo!” said he, looking from one flaming girl to the other; “am I to be a shuttlecock, and your discreet tongues the battledoors? What is up?” “We don't speak,” said the frank Zoe; “that is up.” “Why, what is the row?”' “No matter” (stiffly). “No great matter, I'll be bound. 'Toll, toll the bell.' Here goes one more immortal friendship--quenched in eternal silence.” Both ladies bridled. Neither spoke. “And dead silence, as ladies understand it, consists in speaking _at_ one another instead of _to.”_ No reply. “That is well-bred taciturnity.” No answer. “The dignified reserve that distinguishes an estrangement from a squabble.” No reply. “Well, I admire permanent sentiments, good or bad; constant resolves, etc. Your friendship has not proved immortal; so, now let us see how long you can hold spite--SIEVES!” Then he affected to start. “What is this? I spy a rational creature out on yonder balcony. I hasten to join him. 'Birds of a feather, you know;” and with that he went out to his favorite, 'and never looked behind him. The young ladies, indignant at the contempt the big man had presumed to cast upon the constant soul of woman, turned two red faces and four sparkling eyes to each other, with the instinctive sympathy of the jointly injured; but remembering in time, turned sharply round again, and presented napes, and so sat sullen. By-and-by a chilling thought fell upon them both at the same moment of time. The men were good friends as usual, safe, by sex, from tiffs, and could do without them; and a dull day impended over the hostile fair. Thereupon the ingenious Fanny resolved to make a splash of some sort and disturb stagnation. She suddenly cried out, “La! and the man is gone away: so what is the use?” This remark she was careful to level at bare space. Zoe, addressing the same person--space, to wit--inquired of him if anybody in his parts knew to whom this young lady was addressing herself. “To a girl that is too sensible not to see the folly of quarreling about a man--_when he is gone,”_ said Fanny. “If it is me you mean,” said Zoe stiffly, _“really_ I am _surprised._ You forget we are at daggers drawn.” “No, I don't, dear; and parted forever.” Zoe smiled at that against her will. “Zoe!” (penitentially). “Frances!” (archly). “Come cuddle me quick!” Zoe was all round her neck in a moment, like a lace scarf, and there was violent kissing, with a tear or two.