"So that's what I missed by declining Mrs. Warren's box party invitation!" exclaimed Hilda. "Well, let's have the article." "I haven't got it," said Puddy. "George wouldn't give it to me. He said it belonged to Mr. Porter, but I copied some of it." "Oh, there's Evelyn Rogers. Let's call her in. Evelyn! Evelyn!" Hilda was at the window gesticulating and calling. "Young ladies," said the president, "I'm surprised. Come to order. Good-morning, Evelyn. We are met to consider an important matter--'How to Cook Wives.'" Evelyn laughed. "Is that all you called me in for? I heard enough of that last night. It was George Daly's theme all the evening." "Were you at the box party?" asked Hilda. "Yes, I was so silly as to go. Oh, these society people just wear me out. I'm more tired this morning than I should be if I'd worked at a churn all day yesterday. They're so stupid. They talk all night about nothing." "You ought to commend them for intellectual economy; they make a little go such a long way," said Prudence. "Seriously, though, are you met to consider that piece?" asked Evelyn. "No," said Puddy. "We just happened to meet, and that came up for discussion." "Well, as I don't care----" began Evelyn, laughing. "Sh-h!" said the president. "The publisher from New York says slang is not used in the best circles," said Hilda. She recited this in a loud, stereotyped tone, giving the last word a strong upward inflection, suggestive of a final call to the dining-room. "Yes, I know," said Evelyn. "I met him at the box party last night, and he told me so." "What did you say?" inquired Puddy. "I said it must be awful to be deaf from birth." "Did he hear that?" laughed Hilda. "I presume he did, for he gave me one look and straightway became dumb as well as deaf." "Girls, I must be going!" exclaimed Hilda suddenly. "Really, if any poor galley slave works harder than I do, I commend him to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Adults. I've already been out to a luncheon to-day, at Mrs. Pierce's, and Pachmann's _matinee_ this afternoon, and I must go to Joe Harding's dinner to-night----" "Are you going to that swell affair?" interrupted Puddy. "I envy you." "I don't," said Evelyn scornfully. "Joe Harding's little better than an idiot, and he's notorious in many ways." "He can give swell dinners, though, and the best people are his guests." "No, they're not," said Evelyn emphatically. "I'm not there and never will be." "Young ladies, come to order," said Hilda in a severe tone, "and listen to my tale of woe. After the Harding dinner I go to the opera with the Harding party, and then, with my chaperone, that pink of propriety, Mrs. Warren, I attend the Pachmann reception at the Rutherfords. Now, if your scrubwoman can name a longer, harder, or----" "More soul and brain enervating list," continued Evelyn. "I should be pleased--I mean pained to hear it," concluded Hilda.