"Pray do," I replied coldly, as we left the trap and entered a dry-goods store, gay with Christmas decorations, and crowded with shoppers. Wending our way to the ribbon counter we found it thronged by pretty girls, chattering merrily as they selected various shades from a gay labyrinth of color, that announced a sale of remnants. It was evident that but one damsel of the group had troubled herself to remember that the month was December, for she alone did credit to her conventional convictions. She resembled, at first glance, a properly rolled umbrella. Her tailor-made gown was severe in the extreme, and her hat and carriage were harmoniously stiff. Her companions wore cheerful, girlish costumes, ranging in variety from a white flannel tennis frock, supplemented by fur cape and straw sailor hat, to the very correct street suit of the severe young woman. Bright eyes and glowing cheeks showed plainly that if cotillions were a frequent occurrence in Pasadena, as the conversation of the lassies indicated, their disastrous ravages were providentially repaired by horseback riding and tennis the year round. We had not expected to meet friends among the merry bevy, but as the young woman of the "tailor-made" turned to leave the store, Mrs. Sanderson recognized her. She was Miss Walton, the daughter of an old friend, a wealthy New Yorker, who now lived most of his time in Pasadena. The acknowledgement was instantaneous, and before the ladies had exchanged a dozen sentences they were joined by a younger sister who was quite a beauty. "This encounter is delightful," said the younger girl, extending cordially a pretty bare hand slightly browned by the sun. "I am so glad you have come, for now we can have Mr. Sanderson for our cotillion. We were quite desperate for another man, as one of our dearest one-lungers has been forbidden to dance. The pretty, tall girl buying the pink ribbon is the unfortunate bereft of her partner. She will be delighted with her luck, when I tell her she is to dance with a man who will not be a responsibility." "For shame, Ethel!" interrupted the tailor-made Miss Walton; "what will the ladies think?" "The simple truth," replied the irrepressible Ethel. "The ladies have doubtless learned of the one drawback to our glorious climate--its dearth of able-bodied dancing men. Do you wonder, Mrs. Sanderson," the girl continued appealingly, "that we jump at the chance to dance once in a while with a man who is not delicate, who has never had a hemorrhage or organic heart trouble? Of course," she rattled on, "we have a few sound men, but this year has been an off year for the unengaged. The two dear fellows who made love collectively have gone East, so you see a new man is like balm in Gilead." "Sidney must certainly attend the cotillion," his mother said, much amused.