“Why—er—that is true,” cried the blue-eyed girl. “You dear, delightful, clever thing! I am so glad that I just made you be our president.” “Oh, well, of course I like it dear; still, as somebody once said, I’d rather be right than president.” “Hear, hear!” cried the girl with the Roman nose. “Yes. But, oh, girls, Tom says that all the men in our set are talking about this club. He says that Jack Bittersweet asked him confidentially the other day if being intellectual made a woman less loveable. Luckily, I had just agreed to let him have a masculine dinner party and he assured Jack that it did not.” The blue-eyed girl arose softly from her seat and going over to where the brown-eyed blonde was sitting, kissed her. “You dear thing,” she said. “Come over any day you like and you shall see the new sleeve design I got from Paris yesterday.” The girl with the dimple in her chin exchanged glances with the girl with the eyeglasses. “What time in the year do you prefer for a wedding?” asked the latter, apropos of nothing. “Oh, speaking of weddings, that reminds me,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “I’d have prepared a paper on to-day’s topic, as you suggested, Evelyn, but Elizabeth asked me to help select her wedding dress and—well, you know, Elizabeth. It has taken her two days already and I don’t see any prospect yet of her making up her mind.” “And yet she required only five minutes in which to decide to accept Fred, when he asked her to marry him,” said the president, thoughtfully. “I know, dear, but then in this matter of selecting her dress, she had a choice,” said the brown-eyed blonde. “And I’m sure that Elizabeth’s father is delighted to buy her a wedding dress,” said the girl with the eyeglasses. “Oh, Emily, pardon me—I quite forgot that Elizabeth is your cousin!” “Never mind, dear, though I rather like her, in spite of the relationship. Oh, girls, you have no idea of what an effect this club is having upon me. Why, I’ve turned my den into a library, cut all the leaves of my Carlisle and coaxed papa to buy me a handsome writing desk and do up the walls in forest greens because pink and blue seemed so frivolous. Now, I can sit in that room and write papers for the club in real comfort.” “You don’t know how pleased I am to hear it,” cried the president, warmly. “It is quite worth all the labor of selecting topics and leading the discussion, I assure you. Why, Marion, how late you are! Don’t you know that the really advanced woman is even ahead of the clock?” “Yes, I do,” panted the girl with the classic profile, “but, really, I’ve had the most awful time getting here at all! You know I’m always in trouble, but really this is the worst that—I’ll never go anywhere with Nell again, unless it’s to my own funeral, and I can’t help myself, then.”