"Well, I don't know whether I like that or not." "I mean not so lady-like that it interfered with anything you wanted to do. You'd speak up in the pleasantest, most agreeable voice and say the most dreadful things. I'll never forget the day you told "Prof" Moore in class that you had always had a peculiar aversion to the Pilgrim Fathers." "I always did," Ernestine said fervently. "Then one day when we had spent an hour trying to tell what Shakespeare meant by some line you said you thought quite likely he put it in just because there had to be another line. And "Prof" Jennings conditioned you on the whole year's work--remember?" "I have reason to," laughed Ernestine. "The funny part of it was that you never seemed to think you were saying anything startling. Like the day you contended in ethics that you thought frequently it was better to be pleasant than truthful. Kitty Janeway was so shocked at that. I wonder if Kitty Janeway is any happier with her second husband than she was with her first?" "I'm sure I don't know," said Ernestine in a rather far-away voice. "I'll send all the girls cards," said Georgia, and again she sighed heavily. "The cards are going to look very nice," she added, a little more hopefully. "Ernestine?"--after a little pause. "Yes?" "You and I are hanging right over the ragged edge of thirty." "Horrors!--Georgia; is this your idea of furnishing pleasant entertainment for a guest?" "But I was just thinking how many things have happened to us since we were twenty-two." "I was thinking of that a minute ago myself." "To you, especially. Now, I never supposed when we were in college that you were going to marry Karl Hubers." "No," laughed Ernestine, "neither did I." "I mean I never associated you two with one another. And now I can't think of you separately. And then your father and mother, and then Karl losing--heavens, but I'm cheerful! Now, isn't it just like me," she demanded, angrily, "to act like a fool just because I'm going to be married? If I keep on I'll find myself weeping because Socrates is dead. And I never do weep, either. I tell you that Joe Tank's a terrible man," she laughed, brushing away some tears. "I don't think you're going to have much to weep about, Georgia. I know you're going to be happy." "Well, if I'm not it won't be Joe's fault. Unless it is his fault on account of its _not_ being his fault. What I mean is that good-natured people are sometimes aggravating." "Oh he'll not always be good-natured," she reassured her. Ernestine said then that she must go, and was standing at the door when Georgia burst forth: "Oh Ernestine--I'm so glad I remembered. You really must go down to the Art Institute and see those pictures by that Norwegian artist--I shouldn't dream of pronouncing his name. They go away this week, and it would be awful for you to miss them."