"And what does it all amount to?" asked Evelyn. "Will any one tell me what you are working for?" "A settlement," said Nannie promptly. "I'm the only niece of poor but impecunious relatives, and they expect me to do my best and marry well." "Goodness, child!" exclaimed Hilda, "I hope you don't tell the brutal, cold-blooded truth in society!" "Why, no, that isn't it," said Puddy. "We are going out to have a good time." "Oh, you slaves and bondwomen!" exclaimed Evelyn. "You don't know what a good time means. I must be off. Adieu, seneschals." And with a pitying smile she left them. She was a handsome, spirited-looking girl, with a queenly carriage. As she went out of the house Constance Leigh came by, and the two walked off together. "There's a pair of them," Hilda remarked. "Awfully nice girls," said Nannie. "Oh, yes, but they're rabid. Constance Leigh is as independent as a March hare, and Evelyn is perfectly fierce for reforms now." "What, a socialist?" asked Prudence. "No, not exactly, but she gathers the most awful class of people about her, and fairly bristles with indignation if one ventures to criticise them." "What do you mean--criminals?" asked Prudence. "You'd think so if you chanced to run into one of them. Why, last Sunday evening she had an inebriate up to tea with her; next Sunday she expects a wife-beater, or choker, or something of that sort, and the other day, when I was coming out from a call on her, I met a black-browed, desperately wicked-looking man--as big as a mountain. I know he was a murderer or something. I never was so frightened in my life. Why, I took to my heels and ran the length of the street. I presume he was after me, but I didn't dare look behind." "You needn't have worried, Hilda," said Prudence. "You know big men never run after you." It was a notorious fact that most of Hilda's admirers were about half her size. "Oh, yes. That holds good in society, but I don't know what might obtain in criminal circles." "Hilda, did your villain carry a cane and wear glasses?" "I was too frightened to notice, but I believe he flourished a stout stick of some sort, and I do remember a wicked gleam about his eyes--might have been spectacles." The girls burst out laughing. "Why, it's Professor Thing-a-my-Bob, or Dry-as-Dust, or somebody or other, from Washington. He's her _fiance_." "Well, I don't care if he is," persisted Hilda. "He's a wicked-looking villain." "Oh!" screamed the girls, and then Prudence added, with mock solemnity: "Any one who could talk slightingly of a genuine college professor would speak disrespectfully of the equator or be sassy to the dictionary." "I'd just enjoy telling the poor old proff what Hilda----" began Nannie, but the persevering president interrupted her. "Young ladies, you will now come to order and consider the subject in hand." "Which hand? Or in other words, where's that article? I should like to see it," said Hilda.