"Of course not; but I was advising her to read Prometheus, when she gaped behind her fan, and began to talk about Phebe. What a 'nice creature' she was, 'kept her place,' 'dressed according to her station,' and that sort of twaddle. I suppose it _was_ rather rude, but being pulled up so short confused me a bit, and I said the first thing that came into my head, which was that I thought Phebe the best-dressed woman in the room, because she wasn't all fuss and feathers like most of the girls." "O Mac! that to Emma, who makes it the labor of her life to be always in the height of the fashion, and was particularly splendid that night. What _did_ she say?" cried Rose, full of sympathy for both parties. "She bridled and looked daggers at me." "And what did you do?" "I bit my tongue, and tumbled out of one scrape into another. Following her example, I changed the subject by talking about the Charity Concert for the orphans; and, when she gushed about the 'little darlings,' I advised her to adopt one, and wondered why young ladies didn't do that sort of thing, instead of cuddling cats and lapdogs." "Unhappy boy! her pug is the idol of her life, and she hates babies," said Rose. "More fool she! Well, she got my opinion on the subject, anyway, and she's very welcome; for I went on to say that I thought it would not only be a lovely charity, but excellent training for the time when they had little darlings of their own. No end of poor things die through the ignorance of mothers, you know," added Mac, so seriously that Rose dared not smile at what went before. "Imagine Emma trotting round with a pauper baby under her arm instead of her cherished Toto," said Steve, with an ecstatic twirl on the stool. "Did she seem to like your advice, Monsieur Malapropos?" asked Rose, wishing she had been there. "No, she gave a little shriek, and said, 'Good gracious, Mr. Campbell, how droll you are! Take me to mamma, please,' which I did with a thankful heart. Catch me setting her pug's leg again," ended Mac, with a grim shake of the head. "Never mind. You were unfortunate in your listener that time. Don't think all girls are so foolish. I can show you a dozen sensible ones, who would discuss dress reform and charity with you, and enjoy Greek tragedy if you did the chorus for them as you did for me," said Rose, consolingly; for Steve would only jeer. "Give me a list of them, please; and I'll cultivate their acquaintance. A fellow must have some reward for making a teetotum of himself." "I will with pleasure; and if you dance well they will make it very pleasant for you, and you'll enjoy parties in spite of yourself." "I cannot be a 'glass of fashion and a mould of form' like Dandy here, but I'll do my best: only, if I had my choice, I'd much rather go round the streets with an organ and a monkey," answered Mac, despondently. "Thank you kindly for the compliment," and Rose made him a low courtesy, while Steve cried,--